hottpinkpenguin

[hottpinkpenguin]

Reasons, Ch.6 - Cassian Andor series

Female reader insert Summary: You're a droidsmith on Ferrix when a handsome stranger walks in one day with a hopelessly damaged droid. You agree to take on the repairs for the stranger, a decision that will change the direction of your lives forever. Word Count: 2,260 Content Warnings for: canon-divergence; cursing Taglist: @mithicakurogo @nonniecannie @freerangesweets @zbeez-outlet @chicken-fifi @queerponcho @theatergirlmgm @oh-yeah-i-exist @shakespeareanlead @idontevenknow1359

The sound of waves licking the sandy beach below had become a steady soundtrack that pounded around your head all hours of the day and night. You’d at first been mesmerized by the planet Niamos - to think, its inhabitants lived within full eyesight of an ocean at all times - but now, almost three and a half months after your frenetic arrival, boredom mixed with fear had gotten inextricably mixed with the sounds and smells of the ocean and you realized that you hated it here. Especially without Cassian.

He hadn’t stayed long, maybe two days. He’d dumped you in this beautiful, empty house and left with barely a word…

“I need to see my contact on Coruscant.” His dark eyes were red-rimmed from lack of sleep and cold. “Need to sort out safe passage for you. Get forged papers, new documents. It’ll take a while.”

You’d breathed in a heavy, long breath. Exhaustion had settled deep in the center of your bones, but what choice did you have? You were a fugitive now.

You nodded numbly, looking longing out through the perpetually-open wall of glass at the ocean stretched out to the horizon line. 

“I’ll go pack,” you replied, sliding out of the chair you were in and heading towards the bedroom you were staying in. “Won’t take long.”

Cassian caught your hand as you turned away. His touch sent electricity ricocheting up your arm, stealing your breath. You turned back to him, wondering if you looked as hopeful as you felt. 

“I’m going alone,” he clarified. His voice sounded sad and far away, but those dark, bottomless eyes revealed nothing. 

You didn’t know what to say. What to ask. Where would you stay? Here, you supposed, only because there was nowhere else to go. You’d realized very quickly that the Galaxy was massive, and you’d never left Ferrix before. The only person that you knew out here was Cassian, and laying claim to ‘knowing’ him felt like a lie. You felt that now more than ever. You didn’t really know him at all. 

You felt yourself give a shrug. Half resignation, half confusion. Cassian watched you quietly as you slid back into the chair, your eyes returning to the waves. Each time a new wave boiled up from the ocean depths, crested, and then crashed in a spray of foam on the seashore, you felt a new emotion rise up and crash open inside you. Grief. Rage. Despair. Terror. 

You don’t know how long you’d sat there, staring at the sea. After a long while of sitting still and thinking, you said the only thing that really mattered to you anymore. “Don’t forget to come back for me.”

Cassian hadn’t said a word after that. He’d simply slipped out the door without so much as a backwards glance. Leaving you to the empty house that looked out over the empty ocean…

The realization that Cassian wasn’t coming back for you had hit you somewhere around week seven. He hadn’t left a way for you to contact him, or vice versa. He hadn’t sent anyone to check on you. He hadn’t squirreled away a secret note or some small token of his remembrance. It was like he’d never been here at all. And that was by design. He was covering his tracks. Sure, you were on the run. But so was he. 

You wondered where in the escape things had gone sideways. He’d seemed so deliriously guilty about getting you tied up with the Empire when he’d broken into your home on Ferrix. He’d been tender in taking care of you after hyperdrive sickness, and then he’d brought you here. To safety. Because he cared… right?

There was one moment that everything had pivoted. You could barely bring yourself to think of it. Your cheeks burned with embarrassment (and desire, if you were completely truthful) each time you relived that kiss. It had to be the kiss. You’d crossed a line, you told yourself. Cassian was just trying to save your skin, and you’d gone and made it some sort of tragedy-romance mashup of bad luck and bad decisions when you’d slapped your lips on his. I’ve always been a good actor. You’d never forget those words. He’d been acting as the good guy, trying to make up for his wrongs by pulling you out of Ferrix. But that’s where it had ended. You’d fallen for his show, and you’d ruined everything. And now, you were alone. Just you and the ocean. 

Three and a half months was a long time to be by yourself. You’d managed to get by on the credits you’d had the sense to pack before fleeing your home, but that supply was dwindling. Pretty soon you’d have to make a choice: go home, or set up shop here. You’d have to fix droids. It was all you knew. But setting up shop somewhere new was bound to be fraught with challenges. You didn’t know the market, didn’t have a customer base. There were bound to be other droidsmiths on Niamos, so you’d be making enemies while you were bowing and scraping, taking whatever anyone would throw at you, all in the name of buying trust and goodwill and maybe, hopefully, a repeat customer. 

But worst of all, setting up shop here felt final. Setting up shop here meant that you wouldn’t be leaving. That this was home now. And, at the end of the day, that meant that Cassian wasn’t coming back. 

You hated him for leaving you, but not enough to give up all hope. Not yet. You counted the credits you had left. One more week, you thought to yourself. If he’s not back by then, I’ll start looking for shop space. 

An empty promise, you knew. You’d made the same one for the last four weeks.

* * * * * * * * *

Cassian felt fire burning in his veins as he held Senator Mothma’s gaze, her last words hanging heavy in the darkness between them. 

“I cannot afford to wait another week,” Cassian growled through gritted teeth, his hands trembling at his side. “It’s been almost four months already, Senator.”

Senator Mothma fidgeted uncomfortably with the large hood that obscured her face from the ambient light of a Coruscant night. They were quite alone in the rancid-smelling alley that Cassian had chosen for their meet-up, but the hum of the city-planet rang in their ears. A reminder to be quick, and be on their way. 

“I’m sorry, Cassian, I truly am, but I simply canno-”

“Senator, with respect, I am tired of your apologies.” Cassian was pacing now, his voice breaking free of the constraints of whispering. His temper was fracturing with impatience. “My contact on Niamos is in constant danger, and you’ve kept us waiting for four months for papers!”

“Cassian, please.” The Senator cast a shifty glance around. No one was listening, but the last thing either of them needed was to make a spectacle of the exchange. A Senator caught in a clandestine midnight meeting with a known Rebellion agitator would do neither of them any good. To say nothing of the warrant for Cassian’s arrest and the bounty price of half a million credits on his head. Or the Senator’s deeply scrutinized allegiances and alleged ties to the Aldhani incident. 

Cassian tried to calm himself, but he was beyond reason. All he could see was your eyes, the way you’d crumpled when he’d told you he was coming to Coruscant alone. It had nearly broken him to leave you there, but the brutal calculus of life as a wanted criminal demanded the utmost adherence to scruples. Cassian couldn’t risk your life just to keep you near him. It would have been easy - too easy - to delude himself into thinking that the safest place for you was by his side. Right where he wanted you. But he’d already proven himself near-fatal to you, almost getting you good and shot on Ferrix just by trying to pay off his massive debt with some traced credits. And all that had been before that goddamned kiss. After that, he was sunk. Totally enraptured. He knew it from the instant he felt your lips on his. No, he was in far too deep. If it was the last thing he did, Cassian Andor meant to make good on his promise to you: he needed to get you set up somewhere safe and then make it so that you never saw him again. It was the best way - the only way - he could see to keep you safe. And as badly as he wanted you, he wanted you alive. More than anything, that was what mattered. 

He reminded himself of all of this, one painstaking bitter pill at a time. Slowly, incrementally, he felt the fire begin to burn off as his mind cleared to reason. When he finally felt calm enough to speak, he rounded on Senator Mothma.

“Senator, it gives me no pleasure to do this, but I simply cannot wait any longer. If I don’t have the papers I’ve requested - and paid for, mind you - by tomorrow, I’ll have to take matters in my own hands.” 

Senator Mothma inhaled, her chin jutting out proudly as her eyes simmered. “And just what does that mean, Cassian?” Puffed up and haughty, but Cassian saw a flicker of fear in the back of her eyes. She knew a threat when she heard one. And Cassian had been honest about one thing: it really didn’t give him any pleasure to play this hand with the Senator. She was a noble woman, strong in her beliefs and an astoundingly deft political operative. Smart and confident. Cassian respected her immensely. But, when all was said and done, she was proving to be a hindrance. Cassian had promises to fulfill. Or rather, promise. Singular. Your safety. He was determined that nothing - not the Senator’s delicate political situation, not an outstanding warrant for his arrest, not an entire garrison of Imperial Storm Troopers - would stand in his way.

“Let’s hope you don’t have to find out, Senator.” 

For a few tense seconds, the two of them sized each other up in the hazy darkness. Cassian’s gaze was steely, his resolve never stronger. Three months, three weeks, two days. His internal clock screeched like a tea kettle. Too long. 

After a few breaths, Senator Mothma deflated slightly, her head sagging on her proud neck. The way she crumpled, like a kite that’s lost its breeze, reminded Cassian of the way you’d looked as he’d left you alone by the seashore on Niamos. The memory brought the threat of tears to his eyes. 

“I’ll get them to you,” the Senator agreed. Her voice sounded stretched and thin. Cassian felt a pang of guilt for having to push her to this. He knew what she was risking - her career in the Senate, her daughter’s and husband’s safety, her own life - to get these forged identichips. Ever since the Empire had assumed power, identichips had become mandatory for Imperial citizens to carry at all times. Forged chips had quickly flourished as one of the most lucrative corners of the black market, but the Empire had expended considerable effort on quashing that enterprise in its infancy. Those willing to alter identichips were few and far between now; those willing to forge entirely new ones, even fewer. Only the very wealthy had enough credits to realistically purchase such a service, but forgers made themselves extremely scarce in efforts to avoid Imperial imprisonment. Not that Cassian blamed them - wasn’t that the fate he was trying to save you from, after all? - but their secretiveness had proven an unexpected time suck on his plans. Months had dragged by before Senator Mothma had even made contact with one, and now her order hadn’t been delivered on schedule. Cassian wasn’t sure what it would cost her to extort the identichips tonight, but he couldn’t allow himself to backtrack now. 

“Thank you.” He exhaled heavily, unsure if he felt relieved or more terrified than before. He’d been focusing for so long on getting the identichips that he hadn’t let himself think too hard on what would come after. Were you still on Niamos? Would you still want his help? Had the Empire found you? Were you still alive at all?

Unwilling to follow those thoughts any further, Cassian simply handed Senator Mothma a small strip of paper with a ship’s name and docking location scribbled on it. “I’m leaving at midday tomorrow,” he told her as she crumpled the paper and slipped it into the pocket of her robe. “Make sure my chips are on board by then.” 

She nodded again - a sad, completely exhausted acquiescence - and turned on her heels, vanishing into the foggy street. Cassian watched as she left, listening to the sound of her retreating footsteps. She was walking away with the power to make or break him, Cassian realized. If she didn’t deliver those chips, and Cassian couldn’t get back to you… 

He wasn’t sure what that would mean for him, except that his heart turned to ash in his chest whenever he thought of that possibility. Steeling himself against the mix of dread, relief, and adrenaline sitting on his shoulders, he turned the collar up on his coat and turned in the opposite direction from the Senator. He threw up a silent thought for you - all alone by the seaside in a beautiful, empty house - hundreds of thousands of miles away, but somehow still the closest thing he had to home.

*more chapters coming soon! please let me know if you'd like to be tagged for future chapters

#cassian andor fanfiction #cassian andor angst #cassian andor imagine #cassian andor #cassian andor x reader #andor imagine #andor #diego luna x you #diego luna x reader #diego luna fanfiction #diego luna imagine #diego luna

[hottpinkpenguin]

The Best Pupil - Feyd Rautha X Fem!Reader

A/n: this is absolutely nothing but pure, depraved, toe-curling smut. MINORS - keep it moving, this is not the fic for you! 18+ only! this is my first time writing for Feyd, also probably my most explicit oneshot yet - happy to do more if anyone has requests :)

Tags: Dom!Reader/Sub!Feyd, breeding kink, curvy/plus size reader, praise kink, oral sex (f. and m. receiving), anal play, orgasm denial, student/teacher vibes, non-canon stuff, soft!Feyd, angst turn to fluff, smutsmutsmutsmuttysmutsmut, plotless smut Word Count: 4160

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You strode into the na-Baron’s bedchamber, pulling back the hood of your rain-soaked cloak. You couldn’t see him in the lightless room, but you knew he was there.

“Feyd.”

Nothing but silence. No bother. You knew how to draw him out. 

You began to pull at the line of clasps that ran down the front of the cloak, locking it like a vice around your silhouette. One by one, the clasps sprang open. The gown you wore underneath was strapless, and you let the cloak fall off your shoulders to reveal your skin to the light of Giedi Prime’s moon. You could practically smell Feyd’s excitement, even if you couldn’t see him. You knew his eyes were drinking you in from the darkness. You tilted your head back, your eyelids fluttering closed as you undid the final clasp, letting the cloak pool at your feet.

This time, you heard an audible inhale as Feyd slunk towards you out of the shadows. You wore nothing but a sheer gauzy black gown underneath, putting your ample curves on full display for your na-Baron. Your nipples were already hard and chafing against the barely-there material of your dress.

“Come out and play, Feyd,” you simmered. He was on you before his name fell quiet off your tongue. 

“Priestess.” He exhaled as he said your title, the way he lingered on the s’s sending a shiver up your spine. Your hands found his face easily - smooth, soft skin pulled taut over the hard lines of his jaw. You let your fingers dance small circles across his cheeks, lips, and brow. He was panting but perfectly still in front of you. Just like you’d taught him. You smirked as you found his lips, trembling with anticipation, and plunged two your fingers inside his mouth. 

“Suck.” Feyd, ever eager to please you, obeyed. His lips closed in around your digits and you felt his tongue dance over your fingertips. Delicate and restrained. 

“Such a good boy for me.” Feyd whimpered in ecstasy at your praise. You saw his eyes close as he doubled his efforts on your fingers. You moved them around his mouth, reaching back to touch his molars and running them along the inside of his cheeks. He was vibrating, his hands desperate to touch you, to rip the layers of your gown off you and lose himself in your body. But years of training had left him completely under your control. Feyd-Rautha, the brutal heir to the blood-soaked Harkonnen legacy, was putty in your deft hands. 

“Good job, na-Baron,” you cooed as you pulled your fingers out of his mouth. His greedy mouth tried to follow your fingers, desperate for more of you, all of you, any part of you that you would grant him. You thought about smacking him, making him kneel, maybe punishing him for being so needy by retiring to your private quarters and leaving him hopelessly unfulfilled until the next lunar cycle. But your body was keening for release, desperate for him inside you, pounding into you until you couldn’t breathe, couldn't talk, couldn’t think.

“Patience, my love. Patience.” Feyd bit his lip as his eyes poured into you, waiting for your next move, his next command. 

“Watch.”

Only the simmer in his eyes betrayed his frustration at being denied the satisfaction of your skin. He nodded with a lovesick pout as you walked past him, over to his expansive bed. Black silk sheets were strewn like pools of water over the bed. You sank backwards onto the mattress, hiking the delicate fabric of your see-through gown up over your thighs. You leaned back, exposing your pussy to Feyd. His eyes devoured the sight greedily as he bit down hard on his bottom lip, trying to control his desire for you.

“Come here. Kneel.” You pointed at the smooth, marbled floor in front of where your legs were propped up and spread open. You could feel the cool night breeze hitting the moisture already pooled in between your thighs. Feyd obeyed, moving with restrained strength as he came to kneel before you. The muscles in his neck and jaw were locked tight, every fiber of his concentration bent on restraint. 

“Closer, na-Baron. Close enough to smell me.” 

Feyd’s eyes flicked over your face as he obeyed your torturous commands. He sidled closer to your wet slit, so close that you could feel his heavy exhales on your thighs. 

“So obedient,” you purred, letting your fingers - still damp with his spit - begin dancing over your sensitive clit. You gasped at the sensation, your free hand coming to cup one of your breasts. Your cunt shuddered, clamping down on nothing. 

“It’s been a long time since I’ve let you have me,” you commented idly, your eyes locking with Feyd’s. He held your gaze, knowing that’s what you expected of him. He nodded once, a nod of pure agony. “I wonder, na-Baron,” you paused as you slid two fingers inside of you, your breath hitching in your throat at the sensation. Feyd fidgeted where he knelt in front of you. Your knuckles brushed the tip of his nose as you began working in and out of yourself. “Are you ready to please me after all this time away? Or will you give in to baser instincts?” 

You cocked an eyebrow at him, inviting him to reply. The sight of him, kneeling and stockstill between your spread-eagle legs, sent a shockwave of delight sprinkling over your skin. You threw your head back as you gave him permission to reply: “Speak.”

“Your pleasure is always my sole concern, Priestess.” Gods, he really meant it too. You were hardest on Feyd because he was your most gifted student. Endowed with impressive physicality and astounding stamina, you’d taken great care to shape his will to your needs over the years. And he always satisfied you. Always. 

“Then show me, na-Baron. Eat until I can’t tell you not to anymore.”

His eyes glittered with anticipation as he waited for the word that set him free. You pulled your fingers out of your pussy, licking your moisture off of them with a throaty moan, and settled into a propped-up position so you could watch the show. 

“Begin.” 

Your command sent Feyd into a frenzy. He dove into you like a predator, his mouth clamping down on your already twitching cunt with primal ferocity. He growled against you, arms hooking around your thighs and locking you in place. You cried out instantly, back arching off the bed as his tongue found your sensitive bud and he slipped three fingers inside you with force. 

Your first orgasm crashed against you fast and hard. Your thighs shook with pleasure as Feyd lapped and sucked and stroked you with his tongue, moaning at the sight of you coming on his mouth. You collapsed fully back to the mattress, your hands coming to his head and dragging him harder against your mound. He practically roared into you as he curled his fingers upwards inside you, pressing and pounding in and out. Your first orgasm hadn’t fully receded before you felt the coil deep within your core snapping again. Incoherent words and splinters of his name spilled from your lips as you screamed out loudly. The sound drove Feyd-Rautha mad. You knew others could hear you, and it didn’t matter. You were his Priestess, and he was your na-Baron. Let them listen.

Your entire body was shaking from the force of your pleasure when Feyd pulled back from your mound, wrenching your hips sideways to flip you 180 degrees over onto your stomach. You slammed down on the luxuriously soft sheets with a grunt of surprise. Feyd’s mouth was back on you in an instant, greedily digging at your cunt from a new angle. His fingers pulled back from your slick slit, moving upwards to your other entry and pressing inwards. 

The initial gasp of surprise turned into a chuckle, and Feyd that further coaxed into a gurgled moan of pleasure as he stretched your ass. His fingers were sopping from your orgasms and his spittle. They slid in and out of you easily. He knew your body better than his lungs knew air, and he showcased his skill with relish. Another wave of pleasure crested inside you, turning your muscles to jelly as you buried your face in the sheets, crying out his name in ecstasy. Liquid gushed from between your legs and onto his face. He groaned at the taste, lapping up every last drop as he shook his face against you, elongating the pulsing of your climax. You tried to scoot away from him, out of his grip, but you’d trained him too thoroughly to let you escape now. Your body felt like it was on fire, your oversensitive clit pounding in time with the flicks of his tongue. 

“Stop, Feyd, stop.” He only chuckled and kept going, remembering your command: eat until I can’t tell you not to anymore. 

Your fourth orgasm wiped your mind clear of any coherent thought. You were too weak, too undone to even protest. You simply closed your eyes and let Feyd guide you through. He sensed the change, his attention becoming less feral and gentler. He danced his mouth over your clit in a delicately decrescendoing pattern, letting you settle back into your body softly. When you finally reared up, hair mussed and your gown completely twisted around your midsection, he pulled off of you. He’d done well, followed your commands exactly. You clumsily flipped yourself back over, spots dancing in your vision. He was stripping off his black fighting leathers at the foot of the bed, his smooth, muscled skin shining in the dim moonlight of his chamber. 

“Priestess. I trust you’re not disappointed with my performance?” A lesser man would have smirked with smugness at that question. Evidence of your satisfaction was literally dripping off his chin. But not Feyd-Rautha. His voice was devastatingly sincere, his eyes drinking you in, waiting, begging, for your praise. 

You smiled at him, running your tongue over your lips as his erect cock sprang free of his trousers. 

“Your Priestess is never disappointed when you’re so obedient for me,” you replied. You saw Feyd shiver. He moved involuntarily to fist himself, but stilled, remembering that you had yet to allow him. 

“What would my Priestess have with me next?” he asked quietly. A dark quality to his voice, a deepening wont. The game was heating up. This was the part Feyd loved: putting aside his imminent pleasure for you. He’d done it a thousand times for you. Fuck you right up until he was shuddering with the first waves of his own finish, and then pull back from the edge at the very last moment. You’d hold him in limbo for hours, sometimes days, before you’d let him release. 

But tonight wouldn’t be like that. Tonight was different. Tonight you had news. 

“Before that, na-Baron. We have business to discuss.” You motioned for him to join you on the bed next to you. His eyes widened in anticipation, wondering what you had in store for him. He did as you bade and sank onto the silken sheets next to you. His cock bounced beguilingly as he sat, and you smirked, leaning over and taking his length in your mouth in one smooth motion. He moaned, his head throwing back, as a hand twined itself in your hair. No pressure, no guidance or demand in the touch. Just a need to feel you, to hold you. You allowed it.

You slid your mouth up and down his shaft a few times, the salty tang of his precum staining the back of your tongue. With your lips sealed shut around his member, you let your tongue trace patterns up and down the shaft and across the head as you pumped up and down. You knew just how Feyd liked it, and you felt his dick twitch appreciatively at the attention.

“What is this business, Priestess?” His voice was breathy with lust. You pulled back, letting his girth spring out of your lips with a little pop. He gasped softly and let you push his torso backwards onto the mattress. 

“I received a message from the Emperor’s Rite, the head of my order.” You guided Feyd’s feet upwards off the cool stone floor until he was lying prone on his back with his knees bent upwards against his chest. You moved yourself below him, kneeling off the edge of the bed, his backside and balls exposed to you. 

“The Rite, as you remember, makes decisions about mixing bloodlines.” You were dragging this out, and you could sense Feyd’s confusion. Determined not to let him think too far ahead, you let a dollop of spit drip out of your mouth onto his thick cock, and using one of your hands coated his length with it. 

“I remember,” he replied hoarsely. 

You licked a stripe from the base of his cock down over his balls and below, to the soft spot above his ass. He gasped - eyes rolling back in his head in ecstasy - as you applied pressure there with a finger, your other hand pumping up and down on his shaft.

“The Rite has bidden me to conceive a child,” you continued. The words fell heavy on Feyd’s ears, and you felt his breath still in his chest. Feyd-Rautha hadn’t taken another woman to his bed in over six years, nor you another man. The na-Baron was dangerously jealous, and even if you were to command it of him, you knew it was beyond his ability to restrain himself from killing any man who had you in the ways he did. 

You continued your ministrations to his cock, applying pulsing pressure to the soft skin behind his balls in time with your strokes. Despite his obvious distraction at your words, his body responded with delightful predictability. His breath was growing huskier, his focus drifting.

“Conceive with who, Priestess?” he managed to choke out. Even through the fog of sex, you heard the low tone of threat in his words. You smiled, glad he couldn’t see you spoil the moment in the darkness. 

“With the na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen.” 

Feyd’s head snapped up just as you attached your mouth to one of his balls and sucked, drawing forth a moaning cry of pleasure from him. You felt Feyd’s core muscles grind down on themselves as he shook with the force of an orgasm. Years of your careful training had shown him how to crest in pleasure without spilling his seed, something that had always been of paramount importance for the two of you. Preventing a pregnancy was your chief concern as the na-Baron’s Priestess. Until now, that was.

You continued the carefully orchestrated dance between your two hands and your mouth to coax him through his climax, his legs quaking around you as you tested the limits of his release. You loved him like this - totally vulnerable, totally trusting of you. No one else in the galaxy knew this Feyd-Rautha. No one else had this power to break him down and put him back together. And now, with what you’d just told him, no one else ever would. 

When he was coherent enough to speak, he sat upright, grabbing your chin between his forefinger and his thumb. His gaze was probing as he captured your eyes with his.

“Don’t jest, Priestess. Please.” His speech was sloppy with a mix of apprehension and longing.

You chuckled, grabbing the hand that captured your chin and pressing a kiss to his trembling knuckles. 

“Am I to assume you’re not up to the task of fathering my child, na-Baron?” You gave him a wicked smirk, your eyes glimmering in the moonlight. Much to your surprise, tears of sincerity pooled at your lash line. One slipped out, sliding down your cheek until Feyd - uncharacteristically gentle - swiped it away. His hands came to frame both sides of your face as he stared into you. Feyd had never seen such a vision, never dreamt of this moment. His consorts with you had been sanctioned by the Emperor’s Rite, of course, but it was typical for nobles in the Great Houses to take sexual instruction from the Priestesses. He’d always known that you’d be tasked with conceiving a child for the furtherance of a chosen bloodline. He hadn’t let himself dare to hope that it would be his bloodline. 

For the first time since his training with you had begun over six years ago, Feyd-Rautha leaned forward and captured your lips with his. Kissing was strictly forbidden between Priestesses and their consort-pupils. It was considered too intimate, too familiar. He’d seen your lips wrapped around his cock a thousand times, but he’d never tasted them with his own mouth. He was encouraged that you didn’t pull back or toy with him. Instead, your lips met his with a matched neediness. The two of you found your rhythm easily, your tongue darting over his lips coyly. He smiled against you, his hands cupping the back of your head and pulling you deeper into him. He could taste the faintest trace of himself on your tongue, and it drove him wilder. Only until he felt close enough to swallow your heartbeats did he pull back ever so slightly, holding you still a hair’s width away from him. You looked up at him through thick lashes, your breath warm on his skin. 

“When have I ever disappointed you, my Priestess.” This time, it was his turn to smirk. He leaned in for another kiss, deep and passionate. You murmured against him the only word he needed - “Begin” - and he felt his restraint tear loose from six years of carefully constructed ritual. 

He leaned back, pulling you on top of him until your bodies were melded together in a long line. He loved the way you felt on top of him - soft and full and womanly. Warm and soft and totally fucking his. The gauzy fabric of your gown left too much skin inaccessible to his touch, so he ripped the material with ease, sliding the torn fabric out from between you and casting it aside. You kept your mouth locked on his, his mind fracturing under the weight of so many distracting sensations. He felt you reach down for his cock, steadying it between you as you shifted your hips and placed him at your entrance. 

He exhaled throatily to feel how wet you were - how ready. Normally, he would have taken his cue from you, but the news you’d just delivered had changed something. Feyd-Rautha was no longer simply your pupil. Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen was to be the father of your child, he was to be your breeder. 

His hands found your hips, holding you still as he thrust upwards into your folds, sheathing himself inside you with a merciless ferocity. A gasp of shivering pleasure fell off your tongue. Feyd repeated the same motion - withdrawing from your cunt completely before thrusting back up into you with a strong, hard stroke. Your tits bounced eagerly as you held yourself up above him, the entirety of your body on display for him. Feyd’s gaze raked over your curves, imagining how your breasts would get heavy and your belly swell with child. His child. The thought drove him mad. 

With a roar of desire, he flipped you over on your back, throwing your legs up to your shoulders until he had you bent completely in half. He pounded into you over and over again, coaxing another fast, brutal orgasm out of your fluttering cunt. He felt your walls convulsing around him, watched your face as you gasped out his name. Your hands grabbed at him, dragging nails down his back and pulling at his ass. As if you wanted to pull him into the very center of you, beneath your skin. If such a thing were possible, I would do it, he thought with blazing possessiveness. He leaned forward, muffling his name on your lips. You were too gone, too blissed out, to kiss him back with any dexterity whatsoever, but he didn’t mind. He wanted you broken in half with the force of him, absolutely shattered in a million little pieces of fucked out pleasure. And then, only when you were completely undone beneath him, would he loose himself inside you. He’d never spilled his cum inside your cunt. He’d painted your tits, your backside, your face, your hair with it. He’d emptied himself inside your ass before, but never inside your perfect, pounded out pussy. Goosebumps pricked across his back at the thought.

“Going to fucking come inside you, Priestess,” he moaned, feeling his release approaching. Seeing you bouncing wildly beneath him, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes, was sending him hurtling towards unraveling. “Going to breed you with my child. Breed you until you can’t breath. My beautiful Priestess, my only Priestess. So fucking good to me. Say I can, Priestess. Let me come inside.” 

He didn’t know whether he was speaking out loud anymore, but you understood him. “Breed me, Feyd,” you gasped, eyes locking with his. Feyd let his mind splinter into a white fog as his forehead connected with yours. He felt your breath fanning across his face as you whined his name, felt your body slick with sweat bouncing underneath him as his movements became sloppy, felt your pussy squeezing around him as pumped himself into you. He felt like the very core of his body had become unlaced, deliciously undone. He managed to hold his weight off of you until he was utterly spent, and then collapsed on you. You didn’t seem to mind, your hips splayed open underneath him where the two of you were still connected. He could feel wetness seeping out of you - his wetness, he realized - but even that didn’t rouse him. He listened to the sound of your heartbeat matching his, let the feeling of your breath on his ear lull him in and out of the fog like a dream. Moments passed by slowly. Inch by inch, Feyd felt blood flood back into his hands, his legs, his arms. 

He pressed himself upwards enough to look down at you. Your eyes were shut, a dreamy smile on your full lips. Your hair was splayed around you like a halo - no, a goddamn crown, he realized. 

“Marry me.” 

You chuckled at his words, one of your hands coming to the skin of his back, lazily dragging back and forth across his skin. 

“Marry me, Priestess.” More insistent this time. His intention was clearer, his future beginning to lock into place in his mind. Nothing made more sense than to bind you to him.

You turned to look at him, your brows furrowed. Your lips were puffy, your skin glistening with the results of your mutual exertions.

“Marriage?” Feyd wasn’t surprised you were skeptical. Priestesses - even when they were bred - were rarely proposed to. Their purpose to the Great Houses began with tutelage and ended with child-bearing. Marrying a Priestess didn’t convey any political advantage or advance the interests of the Harkonnen household. But Feyd-Rautha would burn Giedi Prime and the entire galaxy for you. He’d always known that, but never before allowed himself to acknowledge it. 

He slid sideways off of you, propping his head up on one elbow. His eyes traced down the lines of your body as mirrored his position. He couldn’t help but thread a hand between your thighs, feeling the warmth of his cum mixed with your juices there. You were oversensitive and moaned in protest at the intrusion, but he shushed you gently. 

“Marry me, Priestess. I’ll give you the galaxy. I’ll pluck every star from the sky for you.”

You considered his words carefully, your expression serious as you held his gaze. He felt one of your hands land on his cheek, your thumb running across his lips. 

“I don’t need the galaxy, na-Baron,” you replied after a few quiet moments. “But I will marry you.” 

Feyd captured your lips in his, a soft and gentle kiss. He’d never known this type of feeling before. A soft, fluttering lightness in his chest. Joy, he thought. This is joy. 

You pulled back from him gently, merriment dancing in your large eyes. “Although, na-Baron, since you’re offering… I will take a warm cloth.” 

For one of the first times in his life, Feyd-Rautha - heir to Harkonnen house and all its bloodied riches, one of the most skilled assassins in the galaxy - laughed. 

“Anything for you, my Priestess,” he murmured, rising from the sheets. He strode over to the washroom attached to his bedchamber, glancing back at you, draped like a goddess over his bed. This, I can get used to, he thought with joy as he set off to fetch that cloth for you. 

#feyd rautha smut #feyd x reader #feyd x y/n #feyd x you #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd rautha #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x y/n #feyd rautha x you #dune fanfic #dune smut #austin butler feyd rautha #austin butler dune #austin butler x you #austin butler x y/n #austin butler smut #austin butler imagine #dune imagine #feyd rautha imagine

[hottpinkpenguin]

The Way of Winter - Chapter 6

Joel Miller series Female reader insert

A/n: takes place at the end of episode 6 (spoilers if you haven't seen!). I took a few liberties with the location. Took a (suuuuper) long hiatus - but I'm back!

Taglist (Since it's been so long, if anyone doesn't want to be tagged anymore pls let me know!): @missdragon-1 @this--is--music @caravelofthesun @ishouldclean @mezmerwrites @babypeapoddd @ay0nha @tpwkstiles @one-sweet-gubler @coolninjavoid @ameliabs-world @superflymaterial @p-muffin @s1xthirty @flightlexsbird @nataliemdixon @krisviciousx @notsosecretspy @freerangesweets @partyofone3413 @angelfxll @bojana-aa04

Word count: 1,662 | Tags: slow burn | Warnings: graphic descriptions of gore, reader getting shot, cursing

Joel watched y/n as she methodically cut away the scales and took out the innards of the six fresh trout she’d caught for dinner. Her hands were red and raw from the ice cold water, but she moved with a confidence and dexterity that impressed Joel, against himself.

It had been three days since Joel had begrudgingly agreed to trust Ellie and let this stranger lead them deeper into the woods. She hadn’t spoken to either of them since. Joel vacillated between irritation, mistrust, and antipathy towards her. Ellie seemed more inclined towards pity. She’d attempted to speak to y/n on several occasions, but was never met with anything more than a contemptuous stare. The silent treatment was grating on his already haggard nerves. Between her self-indulgent petulance and the near-constant throbbing of his stitches, Joel was ready to snap. And tonight was as good as any for a fight, he thought darkly. 

“How long do you mean not to talk to us?” he demanded. Although she didn’t look up from her task, Joel didn’t miss the way her movements got sharper when he spoke. He was under her skin. Good, he thought. If I can bother her, I can break her.

“You’re not the only person who’s lost someone, you know.” Joel pressed forward. Ellie had stopped tending to the fire in favor of shooting him warning glances. Joel knew that Ellie saw y/n as their only shot at surviving in this wintry wasteland. She wasn’t wrong, of course. But Joel Miller was too proud to let anyone - especially y/n - lord that over him. 

“It’s pretty fucking pathetic, actually,” he went on, adding a little extra acid to his words. “Sounds like you didn’t even try and save your family that you apparently gave such a big shit about.”

Joel didn’t even see the knife leave her hand, didn’t see it streak through the air or bury itself in his foot. In fact, Joel found himself regarding the knife curiously for a heartbeat before his brain even registered pain. In that heartbeat, y/n had risen from her crouched position on the side of the icy mountain stream and was striding over towards him, murder in her eyes. 

“Jesus Christ, y/n, no!” Ellie was small compared to y/n - scrappy and tenacious, but too small. She flung herself impotently into y/n’s path, but y/n shoved her aside easily. 

“What the fuck did you say to me, you motherfucker!” Y/n’s scream was hoarse, like she’d been yelling for hours on end. In spite of himself, Joel laughed. At least she’s talking, he thought with glum satisfaction as he felt hot blood pooling in his boot from where her knife had sunk into his arch. The fire in her eyes blazed all the harder, and she threw herself down on top of Joel. Her hands closed around his throat like a vice, ice cold and deathly strong. Joel struck out with his fists, aiming for the sides of her head. He landed three heavy blows, and with each one her grip strength waned a bit. With the fourth slam, Joel felt her hands completely slack off his throat as she pitched sideways. Ellie had regained her footing and had climbed on y/n’s back, shrieking like a banshee as she tore at y/n’s hair, neck and shoulders. As if in slow motion, Joel watched as y/n turned 180 degrees and threw herself backwards against the ground, slamming Ellie’s back on the frozen earth. Ellie let out an ugly, strangled grunt, her eyes widening in pain and shock. Her arms went slack around y/n’s shoulders as she gasped silently, trying to force air back into her lungs.

Everything froze in suspended motion. Joel saw y/n’s expression soften as she surfaced from her rage-fueled outburst. She stared down at Ellie with a look of disbelief and horror as the girl writhed in the snow, her hands clawing futilely at her throat. Her face was turning a deep shade of crimson as she continued to fight for breath. 

“Fuck, no no no no no.” Y/n was kneeling next to Ellie, hands visibly shaking as they covered her mouth in horror. Joel’s mind felt like it ground to a halt, the satisfaction he’d felt moments before at successfully breaking y/n out of her reverie vanishing into smoke. Without thinking, Joel reached for the gun in his waistband, leveling it at y/n’s chest and squeezed the trigger. The gunshot ripped open the woods. It was still echoing off the trees when y/n collapsed on the ground and Ellie sucked in a greedy, gasping breath…

******

“Jesus fucking Christ, Joel, you killed her.” Your mind was fraying at the seams. The moments around you weren’t making sense. You couldn’t find the thread that tied them all together. 

You felt a blazing, fiery pain in your chest. It spread up one side of your neck, down one of your arms, and radiated throughout your torso. Each inhale and exhale made it worse, agony searing through your veins like wildfire.

Hands on you. Small hands on your cheeks. Warm hands. Your cheeks felt cold, your face felt cold. Clammy. 

Then, there were bigger hands. Meaty hands, pressing down on that fire-blasted hole in your chest. You shrieked at the pain, but you were surprised to find your voice choked and drowning. You gurgled in pain, begging. “Please please please please.”

“It’s alright, y/n, we’re here.” A young voice. Girl. Your eyes slipped in and out of focus.

Treetops, high above you. Dark, bare branches against a slate-gray sky. Snowflakes.

“She’s losing too much blood, Ellie. It’s no good.”

“We’ll fucking die out here, Joel!”

More pain, more pressure on your chest. The pain was white hot, but somehow fading at the edges. Like you were pulling away from it. 

“I can’t unfuck this, Ellie!”

“You fucking KILLED her!”

Your veins weren’t burning anymore. They were freezing. Ice in your body. Running through your arms, your neck, your eyes, your legs. Tiny, shallow breaths. In and out of your nose. The sky above you beginning to darken. 

“She almost killed you-”

“Joel, if she fucking dies out here so do we!”

Quiet. Three sets of breathing. Two ragged and deep with rage. One - yours - panting. 

“Christ…”

A face above you. Dark eyes, salt and pepper hair. You recognized it.

“Y/n?! Can you hear me?” 

Your vision began to drift. You couldn’t keep your eyes focused on the face. 

Footsteps. Moving away from you. 

“What are you doing?”

Silence.

“Ellie, goddamnit, wha-”

“She’s bleeding out. We need to cauterize the wound.”

“The bullet’s still in there.”

More quiet. Darkness pulling in over you like a curtain. Your lips felt cold.

“If you cauterize the wound with the bu-”

“You got any fucking better ideas?!”

Inhale. Quiet. 

******

Joel’s heart made a sickening twist in his chest as he watched y/n’s eyes loll back in her head. The dark stains of blood on face and neck contrasted garishly with the whitish-blue tint of her skin. Joel had seen plenty of people die, and more than a few of those had died by his hands. But y/n was going down hard. Stubborn bitch, he thought to himself with nauseous guilt. Can’t even die easy. 

Behind him, Ellie rose from the campfire, striding over with a frying pan. For a moment, Joel didn’t comprehend what she was doing. He just stared at her, dumbfounded.

“Pull her jacket back for fuck’s sake!” 

“A frying pan, Ellie, are you serious?” 

“It’s the only thing that’s hot enough, just fucking do it!” Joel’s hands shook as he lifted his hands off y/n’s bullet wound, a fresh torrent of blood seeping out without the pressure of his body weight to staunch the opening. That’s a good sign, he thought idly as his hands ripped back the layers of dirty clothing to reveal y/n’s bare, bloody chest. Heart hasn’t stopped pumping yet.

Ellie hesitated only momentarily, her face turning green before she laid the sidewall of the frying pan against y/n’s wound with a gut-wrenching sizzle. Joel swallowed down a wave of vomit as the horrid smell of burning flesh ripped through his nostrils. Y/n stirred only slightly at first, but after a moment her eyes popped open and she convulsed, letting out a weak wail of confused pain. Joel was quick enough to grab her hands before they reflexively batted away the hot frying pan. She mewled in protest, eyes rolling aimlessly, not seeing anything. 

“That’s enough, Ellie.” Ellie pulled the frying pan off, tossing it aside and bending over to empty the contents of her stomach on the snow. Y/n went slack under him, and Joel felt himself come down from the adrenaline high with a vicious crash. His breathing was heavy, chest heaving with each inhale. He hung his head, weak with dying fury and bone-crushing guilt. Ellie crumpled into a seat on the snow beside him. 

Joel didn’t know how long the three of them stayed there in that clearing. Y/n was unconscious, but alive. The barely-there rise and fall of her blood-coated chest confirmed that much. How she’d survived, Joel had no idea. He could only guess that the bullet had missed the lungs and the heart by mere millimeters. Maybe, with all the tussling she’d been doing with Ellie, she’d moved just enough to throw off his aim. Try as he might to deny it, Joel had been aiming to kill. Acting on reflex. Protecting Ellie.

Or maybe he’d flinched at the last moment. Maybe, even though his reflexes said kill, some part of him said save. Because one thing became clear as day to Joel Miller as he sat in that bloody snowbank, twilight sinking over the frozen forest:

If y/n died, Joel Miller would never get over it.

**more chapters coming soon! let me know if you'd like to be tagged (or untagged) if you like this series, check out my Last of Us masterlist for other works

#joel miller #joel miller the last of us #joel miller last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x you #way of winter series #last of us fic #the last of us imagine #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us

[hottpinkpenguin]

The Way of Winter - Chapter 5

Joel Miller series Female reader insert A/n: takes place at the end of episode 6 (spoilers if you haven't seen!). I took a few liberties with the location. Took a (suuuuper) long hiatus - but I'm back! Taglist (Since it's been so long, if anyone doesn't want to be tagged anymore pls let me know!): @missdragon-1 @this--is--music @caravelofthesun @ishouldclean @mezmerwrites @babypeapoddd @ay0nha @tpwkstiles @one-sweet-gubler @coolninjavoid @ameliabs-world @superflymaterial @p-muffin @s1xthirty @flightlexsbird @nataliemdixon @krisviciousx @notsosecretspy @freerangesweets @partyofone3413 @angelfxll @bojana-aa04 Word count: 2,351 | Tags: slow burn | Warnings: graphic descriptions of brutality, violence, child death, torture; cursing

“We have to go back to Jackson.” 

You fought the urge to reach over and kick the girl off her horse. You still didn’t know her name - you noticed Joel was careful not to use her name around you. 

You ignored her, guiding Rambo deeper into the snow-blanketed woods along the hunting trail. You knew these woods well, although you’d never been here in the winter. You came out often in the fall, using the old deer blinds you’d patched up to hunt the elk that passed through here. Although they didn’t offer much protection from the elements, the deer blinds were the only place you could think of to go to. That plan apparently didn’t meet with the girl’s approval. She’d been chirping incessantly at you for the last three hours about going “back to Jackson”. 

“Y/n, we have to. Joel’s going to die out here!” 

Behind you, Joel let out an indignant groan of protest. 

“Please! We have to turn around! If you care about us at all, you’ll turn us back.”

You felt your already stretched patience snap like a taut rubber band. You jerked on Rambo’s reins, the massive shire horse’s neck straining in protest against your unusually harsh movement. You reached out, grabbing a fistful of the girl’s dirty sweater around the neck and pulling her towards you so violently she almost fell out of the saddle. 

“Listen to me, you ungrateful little bitch,” you spat, cutting off her startled whimper. A distant part of you regretted treating a child like this, but that regret was too weak to break through your fiery rage. “If you want to haul your ass back to Jackson, you can take your half dead not father and do it without my horse, my dogs, my guns, my supplies, or my help. I am not fucking going to Jackson.”

The teenager’s dark eyes widened in abject fear at your outburst, but you saw the minute flicker of her pupils darting to something next to your head. You heard a pistol click softly as Joel cocked it next to your left ear, the cold muzzle coming to rest against your temple.

“Let her go,” he commanded. Your lip curled, the anger still boiling in your veins mixing with scorn at being caught off guard by a man mere inches from you. You shot a dark glare at him from the corner of your eye as you roughly released the now silent teenager. She jostled in the saddle a bit off balance, but didn’t fall out. 

The gun didn’t drop from your temple, Joel’s hand surprisingly steady. You knew he was probably straining through pain from his still-oozing popped stitches and woozy from blood loss, although it didn’t show. You felt a grudging admiration for his grit, the determination with which he protected that strange and obnoxious girl. 

“Put the gun down, Joel. I’m not gonna kill your brat,” you sneered. The muzzle didn’t move, still pressed against your temple. 

“She’s right,” Joel murmured quietly after a few moments of tense quiet. “Jackson is our best bet.” 

Rage turned to white hot fury. Your hands clenched into fists on the pommel of the saddle, your nails digging into the cold leather. Black and the other dogs growled uncomfortably next to you, recognizing your rising temper and waiting for a signal. 

“Then get off my horse,” you whispered through gritted teeth. You pushed against the pistol to turn your head to face Joel. The two of you were so close you could feel his ragged breath fanning on your face. His gaze was just as hard as your heart felt, the two of you testing the depths of each other’s determination. 

“My brother is there,” Joel offered, his voice softening somewhat. “They’ll welcome y-”

“You fuckers don’t listen,” you growled, fighting against the urge to reach for the hunting knife you kept strapped to your thigh and gut Joel on the spot. “If you’re going to Jackson, you go without me.”

“Why?” His voice was flattened by fatigue. “What’s so bad about Jackson?” 

You closed your eyes tightly against the onslaught of memories that threatened to swamp you. Your sisters, her boys, the sounds of their screams mixed with gunfire… 

The pistol dropped from your temple, but Joel didn’t relax completely. Your eyes opened as you forced your mind to refocus on the moment. Joel kept the gun hovering a few inches above your shoulder, the muzzle tipped up to angle directly towards the side of your head. Behind the layers of protective rage and pain, you saw a flicker of empathy in his green eyes as he looked at you. 

“Either we keep going, or you two give me my guns and get going.” You jerked your chin over your left shoulder, back in the direction you’d come from. “Jackson is a three day ride that way.” 

You watched as indecision flickered across Joel’s face for a second. With a decisive move, he retucked the pistol into the back waistband of his pants and swung a leg over Rambo’s rump to dismount.

“We’re not going without you.” 

The sound of the girl’s quiet voice caught both you and Joel off guard; you’d both forgotten she was there. You turned to give her an incredulous look, Joel shooting her a matching expression of disbelief.

“We owe you our lives,” she announced matter-of-factly. “I for one don’t think we’ll get far without you.” 

You snorted, nodding softly in agreement. Joel’s expression turned sour as his disbelief turned to withering rebuke.

“Joel, you know I’m right,” she chided. 

Joel glared at her, hovering halfway off the back of the saddle. His face looked gaunt and pale, his arms shaking slightly with the effort. A twinge of worry plucked at you as you saw the strain in his face, pain threatening to break through. 

“Fine.” Joel’s concession was begrudging. He grunted as he let himself down onto the ground next to Rambo. Your horse chuffed gratefully at the lesser weight on his back. He was a strong mount, but you’d been pushing him hard on very little feed. 

“But I’m not going anywhere until you tell us why we can’t go to Jackson.”

Your eyes narrowed as you glared at Joel. His challenging tone echoed in the darkening woods as a thick, stifling silence fell over the three of you. The girl shifted nervously on her horse, her gaze darting back and forth between you and Joel as the two of you stared each other down. 

“Why do you care,” you spat back. Your mood was turning blacker by the second as the faces of your family flickered past. 

“I want to know who I’m riding with,” he replied simply. You kept your eyes trained on his face, but didn’t miss the way his hand casually slid up the side of his thigh towards the handgun he kept tucked in the back of his jean waistband. His suspicious mind was getting the best of him, you realized. He wondered if you were intentionally leading him and his ward - whoever the unnamed teenager was to him - out into the wilderness to kill them. 

“If I wanted to kill you, you’d be dead already,” you told Joe, trying to sound conciliatory. His hand didn’t stop its slow progress towards his handgun. He couldn’t understand your reluctance to go to Jackson, a place he knew as safe. You’d have to throw him a bone. 

Finally breaking eye contact with him, you bit back tears as you stared down at the pommel of the saddle. You’d never spoken about losing your sister or her two boys. You had no one to speak about it with, but nevertheless, the silence you’d kept on the topic was your last defense against the grief that threatened to break you loose from reason. You took a deep breath in, resentment towards your two traveling companions clashing with the irritating urge to stay with them and protect them. When you finally looked back at Joel, you knew without needing to hear him say a word that he knew the grief you felt. He’d lost too, and like you the losses were carved bone-deep into his memory. 

“Jackson killed my family.”

Your lip trembled pathetically and you angrily swiped at the hot tears spilling down your cheeks. There had never been a greater understatement of the truth, but you didn’t know how to tell Joel and the girl what really happened. That all of you had been weeks into the doldrums of winter, bellies unnaturally bloated with starvation beneath rib cages that seemed ready to break through your thin skins. Your sisters and nephews were foraging for food and roaming further from your home than you’d ever been before. Half delirious with hunger, they’d stumbled on a scraggly deer carcass with its leg caught in a trap and hadn’t thought twice about who the trap belonged to before they started eating the days-old meat raw. Some riders from Jackson had found the three of them gorging themselves on the putrid meat and had initially thought they were infected. No one had stopped long enough to ask questions before your sister and eldest nephew were dead. Her other son, Adrian, had been only seven at the time, and he’d cried out for you in the forest. You’d heard his scream in the forest as you’d been racing towards them, the sounds of earlier gunfire drawing you in. Why you’d been separated from them, you couldn’t even remember now. All you remembered was the way he sounded: alone, terrified, and desperate. 

You’d crested a steep, frozen-over creekbed just in time to see one of the Jackson riders put a bullet through Adrian’s skull without so much as a flinch. You’d never forget the man’s face: dark hair with a finely trimmed mustache, thick dark hair down to his shoulders. Empty eyes. He’d turned and left their bodies where they’d been shot. It wasn’t until your sister started moaning in pain, her dying moments bleeding out in the snow next to her two sons, that you truly understood just how deep the rot ran in Jackson. The riders had stopped at the sound of your sister clawing across the snow towards Adrian, grunting in agony from the slugs they’d buried in her gut. You’d watched them watch her for a few moments the way someone might watch an ant in water. Then, the empty eyed man had gotten down off his horse. For a split second, you wondered if he was going to help your sister, if maybe he’d finally realized that she wasn’t infected, just ravenous. He walked towards her, his boots crunching in the fresh snow. Your lungs had turned to bricks in your chest, cowardice rooting you to the spot. He knelt beside her, his head cocked at a coldly curious angle. Your sister sputtered as blood dribbled out of her mouth, her arms reaching futilely for Adrian. The man had laughed once before he’d reached down and grabbed a fistful of your sister’s hair, hauling her up by the scalp. She couldn’t stand on her own, her body beginning to shut down, so he held her small frame upright like a ragdoll. She was mewling in pain, reaching for his hand to try and free herself, her eyes rolling back in her head. He’d laughed again, the others joining in, before he dug a finger into one of her bullet wounds-

You gasped, the air completely expelled from your lungs. You hadn’t realized you’d been talking - the crystal clear recollections of that horrid day spun like a tornado in your mind, wiping away any awareness of what you’d actually spoken aloud. 

Long, heavy silence settled around you. Neither Joel nor the girl said anything. You avoided looking at them, staring into the cold woods around you and forcing yourself to settle. 

“That’s why we’re not going to Jackson.”

You went to reign Rambo forward, but Joel’s hand was faster. He reached out, grabbing Rambo’s bridle. Your horse shook his head in irritation, but Joel’s grip was steely. He tried to catch your eye. You didn’t trust yourself to look at him, so you stared at the ground and grit your teeth.

“How do you know those people were from Jackson?” he demanded. His voice was hard. 

“I followed them,” you replied. You felt detached from your voice, as if you were listening to yourself speak from a distance. “I meant to kill them. I followed them as far as Jackson. Waited outside the gate for days. Never got my revenge. So I left.”

Your ears were ringing despite the silence of the snow-blanketed woods. The memory of your sister’s guttural shrieks split your concentration like an icepick. You saw Adrian’s lifeless body like a shadow behind your eyelids. You clenched your fists so tightly that you felt a rivulet of blood spill down your palms from where your nails bit into your skin. When you spoke, your voice shook with fury.

“If either of you ask me to explain myself again, I’ll fucking kill you.” Now you caught Joel’s eyes. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly at your words. Both of you knew those words were true. There was an ugly blackness in your soul, and if Joel and his teenager tested it again, you’d let it loose on them. 

You swallowed heavily and dug your heels into Rambo’s sides. He yanked free of Joel’s loosened grip and took off trotting down the narrow hunting trail, deeper into the woods. You heard Joel grunt in agony as he hauled himself up on the chestnut mare with the teenager. You didn’t slow to wait for them, or check to make sure you hadn’t lost them in the deepening twilight of the cold winter woods. You felt yourself crumble inwards, fury and emptiness howling like a hurricane inside your chest. You rode all through the night, ignoring the girl’s protests to stop. By the time the sun rose, you didn’t know if you’d ever find yourself again…

**read chapter 6 here more chapters coming soon! let me know if you'd like to be tagged (or untagged) if you like this series, check out my Last of Us masterlist for other works

#joel miller the last of us #joel miller imagine #joel miller x reader #the last of us joel miller #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #pedro pascal joel miller #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal x you #way of winter series

[hottpinkpenguin]

I'm in desperate need of sub Thranduil × dom fem reader

Don't care what it is, but i need to see this man put into his place tbh

Slap him, pull his hair, peg him, sneak up on him, drag him away to a secluded area, make him get on his knees and beg. Literally anything 😭😩 Luv ur work

A/n: there's nothing here but toe-curling smut :) hope you love it. MINORS: THIS WORK IS NOT FOR YOU!! DO NOT INTERACT. 18+ only.

Crawl To Me

Sub!Thranduil X Dom!FemReader (gotta be honest, Daddy Thranduil doesn't stay sub forever)

Warnings: smut smut smut, absolutely not even a whisper of a plot, P in V, creampie, squirting, dom/sub vibes, smacking - Word Count: 3646

You jerked upright against the carved wood of the throne, catching yourself just before slipping into sleep. The council of advisors assembled around the dais stifled chuckles at your reaction. The bard from Lake Town who was serenading you and your husband, Thranduil, didn’t notice. He pressed on, his reedy voice warbling over the painfully mistuned notes of the cheap lyre he plucked. You’d appreciated the gesture of appreciation from the residents of Lake Town for the role your people had played in rescuing them from Smaug almost twenty years ago, but after a long and tedious day of presiding over the business of Mirkwood, you desperately needed some excitement in the throne room to grab your attention. Next to you, Thranduil watched the bard serenely, his expression hovering between interest and fondness. He didn’t react at all, although you knew that he had sensed your uncharacteristically obvious disruption. Although you knew you should have been paying studious attention to the performing bard - like your husband - you found your restless mind wandering to other distractions. His handsome side profile did nothing but further escalate your scheming mind. A wicked smirk spread across your face as a plan took shape. Get rid of the bard, and release some of this damn pent-up energy. 

As the plan took full form, you knew that Thranduil was tracing the direction of your thoughts. He could feel your eyes roaming across his face, lingering on his full mouth, remembering the feeling of his lips discovering every inch of your skin… down the long line of his throat and over those broad shoulders that you loved to cling to as his fingers and tongue and cock drove you wild with pleasure… drinking in the sight of his long, smooth hair, imagining how it would feel twined between your fingers. With a shudder, you dragged your distracted mind back to the throne room, uncrossing and recrossing your legs in the other direction, savoring the barest hint of friction in your legs. Thranduil marked the motion, his eyebrow raising imperceptibly. He knew you too well. It was almost a damn liability, and the knowledge that he could sense your awakening lust made it even harder to focus. You sensed his consent in the soft curl at the corner of his mouth and the way his long fingers ran over the smooth wood of the throne’s carved arm in languid, teasing circles. The image of his fingers sent a flicker of warmth curling up your spine from deep within your core. Biting down on the inside of your cheek, you forced your focus away from your husband and back to the crooning bard, resolved to wait until the two of you were alone later that night to see your plans fulfilled… 

**Three Hours Later**

“What do you think you’re doing?” You demanded, stepping into your bedchamber and closing the door behind you with confidence. You heard the guards outside quietly leave to reposition themselves further down the halls, granting you and Thranduil privacy.

Across the room from where you stood, Thranduil froze, his hand mere inches from the green velvet robe he’d been reaching for. You’d timed your entry well; you’d entered just in time to find him shirtless, stripped down to nothing but his soft linen trousers, moments away from covering his exquisite frame in the robe you’d gifted him at the celebration of your marriage anniversary the year prior. 

He heard the note of demand in your voice. He turned half to face you before you issued another command. “Don’t look at me,” you purred as you crossed the room to him. The muscles of his upper back flexed in anticipation as you approached. The sight of his body tensing in your presence was intoxicating. Your fingers came to rest gently on his muscled bicep, tracing a line along the ridge of his shoulder as you whispered in his ear. “Does my lord wish to be commanded, or take commands this night?”

You knew before he answered what he would say; the obsequious way he held his eyes from meeting yours told you that he was in no mood to make decisions. But, nevertheless, it was your practice as a couple to express your wishes in words, even if you were so attuned to one another that a mere glance could say more than your mouths ever could. 

“My wish is only to please,” he replied softly. His blue eyes burned as he turned halfway to face you. “I will do whatever my lady commands of me.”

Your blood sang at Thranduil’s concession. You felt your smirk deepen as the plans you’d been scheming of in the throne room clamored for your attention. Where to begin?

“As you wish,” you replied smugly. 

“Turn to face me.” You took a step back from Thranduil, allowing him to turn and face you fully. The candlelight danced across his muscled torso - a sight you drank in greedily. You kept your eyes glued to him, lingering on the trail of dark hair that started below his bellybutton, tracing a path downward to the part of him that you wanted the most. Your skin danced with heat as you undid the corseted laces at the small of your back, your dress loosening around your shoulders. You shimmied out of it, leaving the embossed black and silver fabric in a heap upon the floor. The cool of the night air mixing with your appetite for release made your skin pucker in goosebumps. You saw Thranduil’s gaze begin to move up the expanse of your bare legs before you issued your next command.

“I said, don’t look at me.” Your words burned with taunting, the feeling of power growing as you saw Thranduil’s expression crumble in disappointment. His eyes fell back to the floor. 

“Your job, right now, is to listen. Can you do that, my lord?” Confusion flashed across his face. This wasn’t your usual fare, but you were set on a path and wouldn’t be turned from it now. He nodded once, swallowing thickly. 

“I can’t hear you, Thranduil,” you continued seriously. He shifted with frustration as he replied, “Yes, my lady, I can listen.”

“Good,” you cooed, stepping back until you felt the bedframe connect with the backs of your legs. You sank onto the mattress, spreading your legs wide and displaying your naked pussy to him. Although his eyes never left the floor, you sensed that he knew what he was missing by the way he chewed his bottom lip, a large bulge beginning to form in his trousers, just below the flat planes of his lower stomach. His hands twitched aimlessly at his sides, almost as if asking your permission.

“You’re not to look, or to touch anything, without my permission,” you added, relishing in the way Thranduil, Elvenking of Mirkwood, the most powerful and regal being you’d ever seen, crumpled in begrudging submission at your words. He nodded, biting down harder on his lip, eyes glued obediently to the floor.

“I can’t hear you,” you said teasingly, one of your hands coming to cup your breast, the other snaking its way down between your legs. Wetness was beginning to accumulate at your center, and you ran your fingers through it. The soft, squelching noise was quiet, but you knew Thranduil heard it. His eyes widened, almost darting upwards before he caught himself, swallowing down a muted moan. 

“Yes, my queen,” he replied. 

“Good job. Kings who follow orders always get rewarded.” You let the promise drip sweetly off your tongue like thick honey. Thranduil shivered with restraint, his head tilting on his neck as his eyes bored holes in the wooden floor. The bulge in his pants grew as the V-shaped muscles atop his pelvis flexed. His fingers found the edge of the dressing table he was leaning against and curled under the edge, desperate for something to grab. You thought about correcting him - reminding him that he didn’t have your permission to touch the table - but your mind was easily distracted by the sight of him getting increasingly needy. Your breath quickened as your fingers found the sensitive bud at the top of your slit, tracing soft and teasing circles around it. The tantalizing sensation and the vision of your subservient king caused you to gasp softly. Thranduil heard the sound and shifted with discomfort. A small spot of moisture at the end of his erection had formed in his trousers, and his knuckles were turning white where his fingers gripped the dressing table.

“Get on your knees for me, my king,” you commanded. Thranduil knelt almost instantly, his desire to please you so consuming that the floorboards shook under his weight. His cock bounced eagerly in his pants, and the sight only tightened the hot coil that was beginning to build deep in your core. 

You shimmied yourself towards the edge of the bed until your pussy hovered right at the edge of the mattress, your feet flat on the floor and knees splayed wide. Thranduil still hadn’t lifted his gaze from the floor. 

“Crawl to me.” The command was so delicious that just hearing yourself say the words pitched you an inch closer to your own orgasm. Thranduil’s eyes flashed with blatant desire as he obeyed, dropping to his hands and knees and moving towards the sound of your voice. The sight of him - half undressed, a faint sheen of sweat dancing across his creamy skin, long hair the color of fresh butter gleaming in the candlelight - on his hands and knees at your command was intoxicating. The pace of your fingers sped up against your clit, and you had to fight the urge to close your knees and rub your thighs together. 

He closed the space between you quickly and hesitated. The sound of your wet fingers moving quickly against your slick center filled the room. 

“Take off your trousers.” Thranduil did as commanded, undoing the lacing of his trousers. His cock burst free from his pants with a satisfied groan from you. His length was impressive, and even after the countless times you’d taken him, you found yourself practically mewling for him to be inside you. But you were resolved to draw this out, to extend your pleasure, and undoubtedly his as well. 

“Kiss my thigh, Thranduil.” Your breathing was shallow, your command not quite so drawling as before. Thranduil lept at your words, his hand instinctively coming to grab your leg as he sat upright.

“Tsk tsk tsk,” you interrupted, momentarily moving your hand away from your clit to slap his arm down. “I said, kiss my thigh. Not touch.” 

Thranduil looked half-crestfallen, half-crazed as he nodded with a quiet murmur of “yes, my queen” before he pressed his lips to the inside of your knee, his hand returning to the floor. 

“Higher,” you ordered. “And close your eyes.” Thranduil did as commanded, his eyelids fluttering shut as he traced a line of kisses up the inside of your thigh. You brought your fingers back to your clit, letting your head fall back against the mattress. Your orgasm was close, and you had designs on how to get yourself there. 

“Keep going,” you murmured, your voice rising in pitch as you felt yourself climbing up one side of your climax. Thranduil’s lips were close to the seam of your thigh, so close you knew he could smell your sex, perhaps even taste you. 

“When I tell you to, I want your lips on my pussy,” you heaved out, eyelids fluttering closed as your fingers strummed needily against your clit. Your toes were curling under, your calf muscles clenching as your thighs began to shake. 

“Say the word, my queen.” Thranduil was so close to your center that you felt the deep baritone of his voice vibrating at your core. The sensation plucked just the chord you needed, and as you felt yourself beginning to come undone, you cried out. “Now!”

Thranduil’s mouth was on your pussy before the syllable had tumbled fully from your lips. He lapped and sucked and ran his tongue over and into you. Your orgasm crashed onto you like a thousand cresting waves, your ears filling with cotton as the earthly world fell away for a moment. You grasped at Thranduil’s head, pulling him harder against you as your walls fluttered and your thighs quaked. Your cries turned silent as Thranduil’s tongue sent you into bliss over and over again, the sounds of his slurping and groaning against your slit the only thing left tethering you to the moment. You drifted there for a while, catapulting from one trembling orgasm into another, until you didn’t recognize the words your lips were trying to form. Everything turned to a shimmering vapor except the mouth between your legs. 

You felt yourself beginning to fall back into your body, your legs collapsing in exhaustion. Thranduil, much to your delight, had stayed true to his orders and kept his eyes closed and his hands unencumbered. You propped yourself up on your elbows, enjoying the view as he lapped at your juices greedily. His mouth and chin were wet with your sex, his cock so swollen it looked painful. Gently, you pushed against his forehead, breaking the contact of his mouth with your pussy. He pushed back somewhat, but your insistence won out, and he eventually sat back on his haunches, chest heaving slightly with exertion and desire. 

“Well done, my king. I wonder, is it time to reward your obedience yet? Or should we play a bit longer?” Thranduil grimaced at the prospect of enduring more time without being given free reign to touch you and fuck you. You smirked, rising up from the bed on slightly quaking legs. 

“Lie down.” Thranduil hesitated briefly until he caught up with your plans. With an eager grin, he rose from the floor and got on the bed, lying on his back. His cock lay against his stomach, its veins engorged, a small drip of precum oozing from its head. You felt yourself clench automatically at the sight of him, your core desperate to feel his girth inside you, stretching you. 

You straddled him on the bed, deliberately letting your hair fall around your face and tickle his neck and shoulders. You hovered your pussy a hair’s width above his cock, letting the heat from your center dance across his member. He felt it too, because he jerked automatically at the faintest hint of contact. His cock twitched eagerly, barely grazing the moisture of your center. He hissed loudly, his hands balled into fists as he resisted the urge to grab you.

“Your eyes stay closed and your hands stay at your side,” you reminded him. He nodded, not bothering to answer you at this point. You weren’t sure if he could speak; he was straining not to break the rules and grab your hips to drive himself shaft deep into you. 

You sank slowly, not taking him into you, but letting your folds barely envelope his cock as you dragged your pussy up and down the length of his shaft, coating him in your juices. He groaned, the sound deep and feral. “You are cruel,” he protested darkly, bringing a fist up to his face so he could bite down on his knuckles. You laughed, thoroughly enjoying seeing him so utterly undone by the lightest touch. You sat back, your weight balancing on your knees, freeing your hands to come to your hardened nipples, rolling them between your fingers. The sensation caused you to gasp. Beneath you, Thranduil thrashed at the noise, a desperate growl emanating from his chest. 

“Stay still, my lord,” you told him, one hand reaching underneath you to grab the base of his member, holding it upright until he was positioned at your entrance. He froze, chest heaving in exertion. You let your hips sink slightly, the head of his cock beginning to penetrate your core. Your pussy trembled, aftershocks from your previous orgasms mixing with the shudders of more to come. 

Beneath you, Thranduil’s head was turned, his eyes glued to the wall. His face was contorted in focus and restraint, his brows knitted and his lips pursed. You reached down and cupped his cheek with your palm, gently but firmly turning his face towards you. “Look at me.”

Thranduil obeyed, his winter blue eyes locking with yours instantly. His gaze burned with an intensity you’d rarely seen from your husband. The neediness on his face matched yours, and it was almost enough to make you want to sink onto him. Just a little more play, you told yourself. 

“Tell me you want me,” you ordered. Thranduil groaned impatiently. 

“My queen, you cannot be ser-”

The slap surprised him. You struck him - not enough to damage, but enough to get his attention - squarely on the cheek. Without giving him time to recover, you grabbed his chin between your thumb and forefinger, jerking his head back squarely to face you. His eyes were wide with surprise, but beneath that shock you saw that the contact had stoked the flames of desire, just as you’d intended. 

“I said, tell me you want me.” 

“I want you,” he uttered breathlessly. You slapped him again, this time harder. His cheek reddened, but he smirked wickedly before bringing his eyes back to meet yours. You let yourself take him deeper, the head of his cock now entirely embedded in your pussy, your walls tightening around it. You gasped at the stretch, another orgasm beginning to tighten your core.

“Again.” Your lust for dominance was so thick it felt like honeyed wine in your veins. 

“I want you, my queen.” Thranduil’s voice was stronger this time, more insistent. “I want you so desperately I can’t think straight-” he paused to lift his head off the mattress, mouth connecting with one of your nipples. He nipped and sucked on it, quickly and roughly. You cried out, your head tossing back, composure and restraint crumbling. His mouth released your nipple to move to the other breast. “-I want you to scream for me-” Another rough nip dragged a cry of pleasure from your throat. He was gaining control over you, your body reacting to his touch and his words. And he knew it. His hands ran down your back until they locked over your hips, grabbing you so tightly you knew you’d have bruises there the next morning. “-I want you to cry out my name until your throat is raw.” Holding your hips exactly where they were, he drove himself with a hard jerk upwards until you felt his cock bottom out inside you. Your legs quivered, the sudden sensation of fullness extinguishing all semblance of control you had. You felt tears prick at the corner of your eyes. “-I want you to remember-” another hard thrust, your pussy trembling as you began to cum, crying out his name “-that you may command me-” you were coming undone, words turning to gibberish, legs trembling as your mind went white “-whenever you want-” your legs buckled, your weight coming down on top of him “-but I fucking own this pussy.” 

He stopped talking, his focus exclusively on driving himself up inside you, again and again. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything except let him take you. He relentlessly pumped his cock in and out of your core, your pussy squirting each time he almost withdrew from your slit, the sensation driving him mad with lust. He roared with pleasure as he pounded, once, twice more, the third time slamming himself as deep as possible into you and stilling. His roaring turned to mewling. Somewhere in the haze of your own fucked out pleasure you became aware that his cock was pulsating as he emptied inside you. You felt boneless, entirely dependent on his arms to hold you up, his hands gripping your hips with delicious intensity. He gasped as the pulsing in your center slowed, his face smoothing from white-hot climax to the warmth of a hard come-down. He let you collapse on top of him, both of you sick with sweat and your wetness. Your breaths synced and slowly, inch by inch, you both began to soften. 

After a few moments, you felt his strong arms wrap around you. You lifted yourself off his still-twitching penis and lay on the bed beside him, your body pressed against his as you lay your head on his shoulder. From this angle, you could hear his heart beating against his ribs, and you counted each beat as the heaving of his chest gradually diminished. He turned his head, pressing a kiss into your hairline. He chuckled slightly. 

“You truly are wicked,” he murmured appreciatively. You lifted your head, feeling drunk from the aftershocks of your orgasm, and gave him a lopsided grin. 

“You don’t seem to mind, my king,” you shot back. He shook his head fervently.

“Quite the contrary,” he replied. After a few moments of silence, he added, “I think we should have that bard to court more often.” 

You only pretended to be offended as you playfully smacked his shoulder. He smiled, a dazzling sight, before he caught your head gently and connected your mouths for a deep kiss. Before you knew what was happening, you felt him roll you onto your back, his weight coming to press down on your body, his cock already beginning to stiffen again as his mouth set to work on the line of your throat. You were about to protest, unsure if you’d be able to handle any more of him, but he caught your mouth with his palm. He looked up from where he was nibbling on your earlobe, his eyes simmering with an emotion you could only describe as eagerness. 

“My turn.”

#thranduil imagine #thranduil smut #thranduil x reader #thranduil fanfiction #thrandaddy #sub!thranduil

[hottpinkpenguin]

Could I request the Darkling x virgin reader where they go to bed together, but before they sleep together reader changes her mind as she's not ready. She's unsure how he will react, but darkling is super soft and reassuring and tells her they will only sleep together when she's ready/there's no rush or pressure etc...

A/n: I made you wait far too long for this anon!! this was a great prompt and i loved writing it. no one makes me melt more than Soft Darkling! hope you love it <33

Eager

Darkling X VirginFem!Reader Word Count: 2524 Warnings: fluff/spice (no smut), misogyny vibes (but not from Darkling!)

You felt utterly ridiculous standing in the middle of your expansive bedchamber, the lacy negligee Genya had picked out for you doing little to keep you warm. You had the bottom hem bunched in your shaking hands as you looked at yourself in the mirror. 

“Deep breaths,” Genya cooed gently as she brushed your hair down your back. You tried to follow her instructions, timing your inhales and exhales with hers. No amount of self-control could quite stifle the terrified stuttering of your heart in your chest. She knitted her brows at your reflection in the mirror.

“It’s normal to be nervous,” she observed softly. “But you shouldn’t be… terrified.” 

The corners of your mouth twitched as you fought the urge to cry. You were grateful for the dim light of the scattered candles in your room. It kept your sour expression cast in shadow. 

“I’m not terrified,” you argued weakly. “I’m just…” Your voice trailed off impotently as you tried to find the right word. Apprehensive? Embarrassed? Exhausted?

“Stressed.” You settled on a word that captured such a small fraction of the emotions swirling in your chest as to be almost negligible. You were terrified, although not in the way Genya assumed. You were anything but unsure of what you were about to do. In fact, you were utterly consumed with desire for Aleksander. The warm knot that boiled low and deep in your stomach confirmed that. Your heart skipped a beat as your pent-up mind thrust imagined scenes into your consciousness: your lips on the curve of his neck… the muscles on his back flexing as he climbs on top of you… his fingers digging into the flesh around your hips…

No, it wasn’t sex that you were terrified of. And it wasn’t Aleksander either. 

The source of your terror wasn’t anywhere outside of you. It was within you. You forced yourself to hold your own gaze in the mirror, staring down the demons in your own eyes. You need to confront this, you chided yourself. No more running. 

You were terrified of giving up this part of yourself to someone else. It wasn’t about Aleksander, and it wasn’t about the actions involved in giving it up. The thing that held your heart in an ice-cold vice was the fear of repercussions. You’d been raised in the Ravkan High Court your whole life, and as the only Lantsov daughter, your worth still hinged on antiquated rules tied to your purity. Your brothers Nikolai and Vasily had never known that kind of pressure, had never been forced to preserve their innocence for the bitter reward of bartering an advantageous marriage. 

You had Aleksander to thank for showing you your worth. He was the one who’d shown you what it meant to be truly valued, truly loved. He was the one who’d intervened on your behalf when you’d been standing at the altar, moments away from an ill-fated marriage to an abusive drunk. All your family had seen was the virginal princess wrapped in white - Ravka’s most valuable gift - and the massive coffers of your almost-husband’s family. Aleksander had seen a woman inches away from marrying what would ultimately be the death of her. He’d been the one to give you a choice. You loved him, completely and utterly, and he would be the one you’d choose to give yourself to, body and soul. 

But as much as you hated to admit it - as much as it stung to confront just how deeply rooted the twisted morals of your upbringing had become within your own mind - you hadn’t come to peace yet. You were flexing your newfound freedom a little more every day. With Aleksander by your side. But you needed more time. 

A gentle knock on the carved wooden doors that separated your bedchamber from the hall outside knocked you from your reverie. Genya stood hastily, smoothing her palm over the smooth waves of your hair one last time. She gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze. You caught her hand under your own, nodding calmly as you smiled at her. You wondered if she could see the gratitude in your eyes. Aleksander was the first to show you true love, and Genya was the first to show you true friendship. You hoped that one day you’d be able to put into words just how much she’d saved you. 

She hesitated only briefly to smile back before she made her exit, disappearing through the doorway into the hall. You heard her exchange soft words with Aleksander before she closed the door behind her. 

You chuckled when you heard Aleksander knock again gently, asking if he could come in. Ever the gentleman, you thought as you replied affirmatively. The door opened a crack, deep shadows darkening the doorway. Aleksander seemed to materialize out of the very darkness itself. It was a strange manifestation of his powers, and one that you weren’t sure if he was fully aware of. You’d never mentioned it to him, preferring instead to let yourself be caught breathless by his presence each time. 

As always, you felt your breath tangle in your throat for an instant. The sight of him seemed to wipe your mind clean of all the worries and the conflicted emotions, leaving behind nothing more than that burning knot in your stomach. His dark eyes took in the scene before him, lingering on the vast expanses of your skin that he’d never seen before. For the first time since you’d slipped into the sheer, purple-tinted gown, you felt warm. You ignored the urge to demur and turn away under the heat of Aleksander’s hungry gaze. Instead, you rose from your seat in front of the dressing mirror and walked towards him. A gentle breeze from the open window next to your bed made the candlelight flicker, the hazy glow dancing in his eyes as he tracked your every movement. That delicious, warm knot low in your belly tightened at the closeness of him, the air between the two of you practically crackling with energy. 

“You look-”

You silenced what you were sure would have been a devastatingly appreciative compliment by pressing a finger to his full lips. He fell silent obediently, his eyes simmering like coals. It was rare for him to see you so confident. Usually he was the one guiding the interaction, but you felt incredibly powerful as he fell under your spell. His usually tense and vaguely troubled energy completely erased in favor of awe as he drank you in without an ounce of embarrassment. 

You replaced your finger with your lips, pressing yourself against his tall, strong frame. His hands raked up the side of your thighs, bunching the fabric of your gown up on your waist to expose the skin of your hips. His hands kept traveling upward, following your ribs from your sides up into the planes of your shoulders and your upper back. You let yourself melt into the kiss, moaning softly as he drank in every drop of what you were giving him with a hungry, seemingly bottomless need. 

His hands finally found their way up into your hair, tangling his fingers gently but firmly against your scalp as he pulled you back from his mouth. You looked up at him through slitted eyes, feeling drunk and whining at the loss of his mouth. He smirked, relishing in the effect his touch was having on you. 

“Eager are we, pretty girl?” 

Your stomach somersaulted at the pet name, your head spinning wildly as he bore back down on your mouth. His tongue pressed through your open lips, tasting you as if he’d never be sated. You could feel the seams between your thoughts starting to loosen, your mind falling under the intoxicating spell of lust. His hands released your hair and slid down your spine and over the swell of your backside. He hooked his hands under your ass, and you leapt up into his arms, twining your legs around his waist. He caught you easily, the muscles in his arms and back flexing with ease as he guided you backwards towards the luxurious bed. You felt the softness of the sheets envelop you as he laid you down, his weight settling on top of you not an instant later. It was all warmth and friction between you two, each of your hands roaming freely over the other’s body as you kept driving the kiss deeper. 

It wasn’t until you felt one of his hands slip over your naked hip and settle between your thighs that a familiar prick of uncertainty flared to life in the back of your mind. It was quiet but insistent, and like a lighthouse cutting through a thick fog, it brought your awareness crashing back into the moment with disappointing clarity.

Aleksander sensed your hesitation and broke the kiss, his eyes suddenly full of worry as he met your gaze. 

“Where’d you go?” he asked, his voice husky around the edges. The sound of it nearly wiped away the trace indecision that flitted around your thoughts like a gnat. But, as gorgeous as he looked hovering over you with a concerned expression, his breath more ragged than usual, you knew in your heart what your decision was.

“I… I want you… desperately want you. But… maybe not… maybe not tonight.” As the words came out in a halting mumble, you suddenly felt incredibly sheepish. A nagging voice in your head made the sharp observation that you’ve let him go this far, the least you can do is give the man what he needs and finish the job. 

You found you were unable to meet his eyes, afraid of what you’d see in his gaze. You weren’t sure you could bear to disappoint Aleksander of all people. Much like a few minutes ago, you felt the edges of your mouth turn down and tremble, tears threatening your eyes. That hot, lusty urge that had almost consumed you moments before crumpled like tissue paper in your blood, and your cheeks burned with shame.

“My beautiful girl,” he murmured, rolling sideways onto the bed and gently guiding your chin upward with his thumb. “Never discount your needs with me.” His voice was serious, each word heavy with emphasis.

You furrowed your brows in confusion, drinking in the flickers of emotion in his mahogany-black eyes. 

“I don’t understand,” you mumbled in reply. 

“Do not say ‘maybe not tonight’ when what you mean is ‘not tonight’,” he clarified. His words felt like a riddle you were struggling to grasp. Sensing your confusion, he went on. “You deserve better than that. This-” he gestured to your two bodies, still somewhat intertwined on the bed- “will only give us what we want if we are clear on what we need.”

You’d never laid with a man, had never come this far into intimacy with Aleksander, but you recognized the truth in his words on an instinctual level. The bluntness with which he addressed you was strange and refreshing, and it emboldened you. You nodded in agreement, holding his gaze to show him you understood. He smiled after a moment, satisfied with your reaction. 

“My affection for you is not contingent on your body,” he added, anticipating the direction of your worries before your thoughts had a chance to get there. “I love you for all that you are, independent of what you share with me on any given night.” Your head spun, struggling under the weight of what you were sure was one of the most pure and powerful expressions of love that anyone had put to words. Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes as a crushing wave of appreciation for the man in front of you swallowed your thoughts.

Aleksander watched your emotions flash in your eyes, the tears causing him to frown slightly in confusion. He brushed a thumb at the corner of your lash line, wiping away the moisture there. His touch still sent shivers rippling over your skin, and you smiled at him. Emboldened by his devotion, you took a deep breath in and began to speak. 

“I don’t know how to give away this part of myself, Aleks. After having my virginity prized and sought after and protected for so long, I’m struggling to think of this-” you copied his gesture, referencing the space between you two where your legs tangled in his and your skin pressed on his torso “-as anything beyond duty. It’s getting better,” you added quickly, noticing the twinge of hurt in his eyes. “It is. Because of you. And I do love you. And I want this. I want to be yours, to give myself to you, including my body.” You had to swat away the urge to kiss him as you noticed the involuntary flicker of desire in his gaze at your words. “And I will. But not until I can think of sex as more than just… a gift.” 

The words tumbled out of your mouth faster than you could catch them. When you were done, you bit your lip, unsure if anything you’d confessed had made sense. You waited, studying Aleksander’s face. As usual, he was drinking you in, his intuition grasping at every minute detail in your tone, inflection, and expression. When you’d first met him, you’d been unnerved by how observant he was, how quickly he deduced your feelings and thoughts. At times, his studious attention was irritating  as it meant you couldn’t keep anything from him. But now, when you felt yourself drowning in a million emotions you weren’t sure had names, you were grateful for his ability to read you.

After a few long moments under his penetrating gaze, he smiled, softly chuckling. 

“What’s funny?” you asked, more curious than offended. He reached down and found your hand, resting on your stomach. He interlaced his fingers with yours and brought your knuckles to his lips, pressing a firm, reassuring kiss there. When he raised his dark eyes back to yours, you saw nothing but adoration sparkling back at you. 

“You are, quite simply, the most incredible being I have ever known,” he said simply, as if he were reading a recipe list to you. “I would wait until the night swallows the sun for you. Whenever you’re ready, my love. You know where to find me.” His last words were mumbled slightly as he rolled over, twisting towards the edge of the bed. As elated as you were by his unequivocal acceptance of your boundary, you couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit rejected to see him turn to leave. 

“And where’s that, Aleks?” you asked. He half-turned back to you, one eyebrow raised in question. “Where will I find you?” you clarified. He smirked, picking up the candle on your bedside table and blowing it out with a confident exhale. 

“Right here,” he replied, settling in under the covers next to you, his arms wrapping around your barely clothed body and pulling you against him. You smiled in the darkness at the realization that he wasn’t going anywhere, and neither were you…

#shadow and bone requests #aleksander kirigan #general kirigan x oc #general kirigan #general kirigan imagine #kirigan x reader #aleksander morozova x oc #aleksander morozova x reader #aleksander morozova imagine #aleksander morovoza #aleksander morozova #darkling imagine #darkling fanfiction #darkling shadow and bone #the darkling #darkling #ben barnes imagine

[hottpinkpenguin]

Why are you looking at me like that?" "I like to look at beautiful things

With Darkling?

The Most Beautiful Thing - Darkling X Fem!Reader

A/n: thank you for your patience anon! hope you love it :) Word Count: 2368 Warnings: none (not proofread)

“Genya, you cannot be serious.”

She smirked at your reflection in the mirror, a look of mock offense on her face.

“Y/n, whatever do you mean?” 

She stifled a laugh as she continued pinning up your hair, plunging a few more pins into your hair. Her levity made your mood more sour and resentful.

“I’m glad you’re having fun with this,” you spat back petulantly. “I am not wearing this.”

You gestured down at the emerald green gown that Genya had procured for the occasion. It was a beautiful piece of handiwork, no argument there, but on you? It looked preposterous. You’d never seen this much of your own skin before, and the thought of wearing this in front of Ravka’s nobility made your stomach turn. The neckline was low - dangerously low, you thought, as you tried to pull the watery-smooth silk higher up on your chest to cover more of your decolletage. The side slit running up your leg was so high it felt immodest. With a well-placed breeze or a misstep on the dance floor, you worried that all of Ravkan royalty would get a healthy look at your backside. 

“Oh, stop being so dramatic,” Genya chided you as she pulled out a strategic curl of hair from your hairline. “You look stunning and you know it. You’re just fishing for compliments.”

You shook your head earnestly and too violently for her tastes. She playfully smacked you on the shoulder, barking the command “hold still!” as she continued to fuss over your hair. 

“Genya, I am as serious as the day is long,” you murmured. She raised a skeptical eyebrow at you in the mirror as she twined another sprig of baby’s breath into the hair at the crown of your head. “This dress is something for the Queen, but me? Gods, what will people think?”

“They will think that you have an exquisite eye for fashion,” Genya replied smartly, her voice taking on a more serious tone. She was getting irritated, you realized, and maybe rightfully so. She had made the dress herself, after all. When you’d told her that Ivan, arguably the second-highest rank Grisha general in the Second Army, had invited you to the Ravkan Court’s Winter Ball, she had practically fainted with excitement. You, for your part, had been less than keen on the event. Your ridiculous appearance was confirming your worst fears true: you would be laughed at. Ivan, Zoya, Fedyor. Even Alina at this rate. You had no business in these fine silks and lavish stones. The closest you’d ever come to finery before was the red kefta you’d received as a Heartrender when you’d enlisted in the Second Army three years prior. 

“Y/n, look at me.” Genya grabbed the seat of your stool and swung you around, away from the mirror where you were chewing on your lip and staring at your own reflection. You hardly recognized yourself. The ridiculous worry that Ivan - your oldest friend - wouldn’t recognize you whipped across your mind like a strong breeze.

Genya grabbed either side of your cheeks, forcing you to meet her eyes. She was already dressed for the event, having devoted most of the afternoon to preening and fussing over you. Her gown was a soft, sunrise-pink with delicate lace layers that seemed to melt into her skin at the sleeves and hem. She had a small cluster of baby blue delphinium blossoms tucked above one of her ears, and her red hair was long and loose around her shoulders. She looked glorious - a picture of the gentleness of spring amidst a harsh Ravkan winter. Her beauty only sank you further into despair. Next to her, you looked gaudy. 

“You look incredible,” she said pointedly and firmly. “You feel ridiculous, but that is not the same thing as looking ridiculous.” 

Against your better judgment, you considered her point. It made sense, you decided, and you felt a bit of that fearful tension in your chest loosen. You took a shaky breath in, feeling the chain of coral and moonstone gems around your neck rise and fall with your inhales and exhales.

“Tonight is about allowing ourselves to enjoy what being a Grisha in the Second Army has to offer,” she continued, letting go of either side of your face. Her hands interlaced with yours in your lap. “Tonight is about fun.”

You continued to steady your breathing, slowly allowing yourself to realize how ridiculous you were acting. You’d gone into battles before, for God’s sake. You’d stopped the hearts of your enemies and restarted those of your friends. You’d trained and bled and almost died for Ravka dozens of times. And here you were, cowering in your dressing room, because you had to wear a dress? 

“I suppose you’re right,” you replied after a moment. Your voice quavered slightly, but you were beginning to feel yourself relax. As always, Genya proved herself to be the tonic that you needed.

“Good,” she concluded, rising from her chair with a chipper smile. “Now that I’ve saved you from your own self-consciousness, can we head to the throne room? We’re already late.” 

You glanced at the window outside, noticing that the horizon was turning from burgundy to a dark, plum-wine color. It was much later than you’d realized. Rising from the stool on shaky legs, you let Genya whisk you out of your chambers. The cool evening breeze running over your legs - an undeniable reminder of that precariously high slit - threatened to undo what little composure you’d managed to recover. You did your best to press the concern from your mind and followed along behind Genya. She practically danced down the candlelit guest corridor of the Royal Palace. You could hear the distant sound of a crowded party: an indistinct murmur of voices, clinking glass, and somewhere beneath that the delicate melody of a violin trio playing a jaunty waltz.

“Genya! There you are! We’ve been waiting!” David raised a hand in greeting, a broad smile breaking across his usually somber face. Genya playfully huffed as she skipped the last few steps, her fingers locking with his outreached hand. 

“It takes quite a while to prepare oneself for events like these, you know,” she replied cheekily to David. He smiled indulgently at her before nodding courteously in your direction. 

“Y/n, Ivan asked me to tell you to wait here. He forgot something in his quarters. He won’t be but a moment.” 

Your heart skipped a beat in your chest as you realized what David was asking. He wanted you to wait here, alone?

“Well, perhaps I can go in with you and we can all rendezvous with Ivan when he gets back?” you countered, falling into step at Genya’s shoulder.

“No, nonsense!” she protested, placing a firm hand on your elbow and halting your momentum. “Stay here for Ivan, it won’t be long. It’s not proper to enter these kinds of events without your companion,” she told you insistently. Before you could argue, her and David had swept off, leaving you alone at the top of the staircase. In the hall below, you could see the shadows of incoming partygoers as they meandered towards the sounds of the ball, which were considerably louder now. A warm, inviting light from the direction of the throne room beckoned the attendees in, and delicious aromas wafted up to meet you. 

Feeling put out and out-of-place, you leaned back against the banister of the stairway, silently urging Ivan to hurry up as you lost sight of David and Genya in the crowd. You were truly alone now, nothing but you, your jewels, and the risque green gown. You fidgeted with a strand of hair that Genya had expertly teased out to frame your face, trying to remember what she had said to you that had eased your worries back in your dressing chambers. Looking out of place isn’t the same thing as feeling out of place… or was it the other way around? Just because you feel something doesn't mean you don’t look it? 

You were tripping over your own thoughts, anxiety and frustration increasing by the moment, when suddenly you had the spine-tingling awareness that you weren’t alone anymore.

You turned to find a tall, imposing figure standing a few feet behind you. Your heart jumped into your chest and you practically toppled down the stairs in your rush to salute the man in front of you. 

General Kirigan seemed to materialize out of the darkness as if he were made of shadow himself. His black kefta was gleaming in the candlelight, along with his coal-dark eyes. He was taller than you’d expected, and devastatingly handsome. His expression was unreadable with the faintest smile playing across his lips, his posture straight and regal. You’d only seen him from great distances, never this close before. And up close, he was every inch the legend that you and so many other Grisha revered. He oozed an easy restraint, the kind of genteel manner that sets true leaders and royalty apart from the rest, but beneath that veneer of control was the vibrating frequency of raw power. It both terrified and thrilled you.

“General Kirigan, sir, I didn’t see you there.” You stammered and saluted clumsily, the motion feeling laughably mismatched with your attire. His eyes glimmered with amusement as he bowed gallantly. 

“Y/n, I believe, isn’t it?” he asked, his voice smooth and dark like running water. You couldn’t hide your shock to hear him call you by name.

“It is, yes sir,” you replied with surprise as a deep flush painted your cheeks. The General’s eyes flickered over you with a glint of satisfaction that you were certain you imagined. 

“Ivan speaks very highly of you,” he continued with ease. He spoke as if talking to someone he’d known for years, with a confidence and fluidity that had always eluded you. 

Uncertain of how best to respond, you merely nodded, swallowing thickly. You were beginning to feel uneasy under his gaze. It was probing and unflinching, not lecherous but not entirely proper either. The flame in your cheeks grew hotter as you dropped your eyes, studying the plush red carpet runner on the marble staircase.

“I see you’ve chosen green tonight,” General Kirigan commented, gesturing at your gown. The abruptness with which he addressed your attire made you wish you could vaporize on the spot. It confirmed your worst fears: you looked so ridiculous that the Black General felt the need to point it out.

Unable to meet his eyes, you only nodded again, self-consciously smoothing the emerald silk against the sides of your hips. 

“It suits you.” 

The wind felt sucked out of your chest. You looked up at the General with a dumbfounded expression. His smile broadened, the first genuine and unrestrained expression you’d seen on him yet. Your mind went completely blank as his singular attention intoxicated you. Your mouth opened and closed futilely, your cheeks no longer ablaze with embarrassment but with a different, more primal heat. The sensation was unwelcome, especially in front of the highest commanding officer of the Second Army, but it couldn’t be helped. You tried to steady your fidgeting hands by looping one across your stomach to hold the inside of your opposite elbow, then playing idly with the coral and moonstones of your necklace, but nothing helped. All the while, the General’s eyes danced across your face, not quite searching, not quite settling. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you blurted out recklessly after a few more moments under his scrutiny. He smirked, running a hand through his midnight-black hair and chuckling as if you’d said something funny. The dimming candle glow in the staircase caught the angles of his face in a mesmerizing dance of light and shadow. Your heart pirouetted in your chest, suddenly acutely aware of how beautiful he was, and how very close he was.

“I like looking at beautiful things,” he commented casually. It took you a heartbeat before you caught his meaning. He stepped towards you, so close that you felt the teasing breeze of his breath fluttering the strands of your hair that framed your face. He found your hand in an easy motion and raised your knuckles to his lips, holding your eyes with a smoldering gaze. He pressed a firm kiss the smooth skin on the back of your hand, sending goosebumps rippling up your arm and shivering all the way down your spine. 

“And you are the most beautiful thing,” he murmured with a final sweeping and appreciative gaze up one side of you and down the other. 

He dropped your hand gently and turned away from you, descending the stairs towards the sound of the party. You let out the breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding, leaning back against the staircase railing to balance yourself on suddenly unsteady legs. Your eyes followed him, your heart beating wildly in your chest as your still-blank mind tried to fumble through the interaction. He half-turned back in your direction and hesitated at the bottom of the stairs. 

Your legs were moving before your mind knew what was happening. You wer halfway down the stairs before you understood that he was waiting for you and that you were walking to him. A distant part of your mind reminded you that you were supposed to be waiting for Ivan.

You swatted that thought away with a half-smile as you imagined Ivan’s reaction to seeing you at the party on the General’s arm. You’d never hear the end of it. 

It’s worth it, you decided as the General held out an arm for you, sparkles in his eyes. Your arm threaded around his with a well-practiced movement that felt as natural as breathing. 

“Y/n,” General Kirigan murmured with a satisfied smile in your direction. 

“General,” you replied, shooting him a sly half-smile. 

“Shall we, then?” he asked politely, inclining his head in the direction of the ball. You nodded happily, allowing him to lead you down the hall and into the brighter lit of the crowded ballroom, all fears and worries evaporated from your mind…

#shadow and bone requests #darkling imagine #darkling fanfiction #darkling shadow and bone #the darkling #darkling #general kirigan #general kirigan imagine #aleksander morozova x reader #aleksander morozova imagine #aleksander morozova #shadow and bone fanfiction #shadow and bone

[hottpinkpenguin]

Hello, could you possibly write a oneshot where the reader is from abusive household and she gets put into arranged marriage with Matthias and after a while he learns that secret about her and is even more sweet and caring and overprotective of her? I know this might be a triggering topic for some but sometimes a good fluff makes you feel a whole lotta better no? :)

A/n: Hello lovely-- this was a great request, perfect fit for Matthias. I took a tiny bit of creative license and maybe there's a part 2 to be written? idk lemme know what you think! <3

Fire and Ice - Matthias X Fem!Reader

Warnings: cursing, implied past abuse, mentions of reader scars, not proofread Word Count: 1246

You thought you’d hidden your shaking hands better than this. Matthias was already proving problematically observant.

“Y/n, what’s wrong?” He closed the door to your shared quarters on the top floor of the Crow Club, shutting out the merry din from the packed bar below. Closing the distance between you, he stepped forward and grasped your hands in his. He turned them over in his hands - strong and calloused - as if searching for an answer in the lines of your palms. 

You shook your head, anxious to swat this conversation away. He ducked his chin down to force you to meet his gaze, something you’d been avoiding for the past few minutes. 

“I… I can’t… I can’t talk about it…” you offered weakly. Your voice was shaking to match your quaking hands now. That familiar terror was creeping up in your chest. You had the urge to find a corner somewhere and press your back into it. Corners had always been the safest place at home. Corners meant that no one could surprise you from behind. You could see anything that came your way - shoes, dishes, and fists. Seeing them didn’t make the bruises or cuts hurt less, per se, but at least the pain wasn’t mixed with shock.

“You’re shaking like a leaf.” He stepped forward, wrapping his strong arms around you. You froze, rigid from surprise and discomfort. He was warm and firm and all around you in an instant, enveloping you and restricting your movement. He rested his cheek on the top of your head as his hands rubbed up and down your back. You wondered if he could feel the decades-old scars there, etched across your shoulder blades. A permanent reminder of where you’d come from. 

“Stop it,” you growled, your voice taut like a wire. Matthias stepped back, letting his arms drop, a fleeting shadow of hurt dancing across his face. For the briefest moment, you had the inexplicable urge to step back to him, to let his embrace swallow you whole again. The urge was foreign to you - you’d never wanted to be close to anyone before. The only desires you’d ever felt in relation to other people was the desire to get away from them. Although, in all fairness, no one had ever given you a reason to want anything other than to be alone. You’d accumulated enough bruises, burns, scars, and dark memories to prove that a hundred times over.

“Y/n, talk to me. What’s going on.” 

Matthias’ wintry blue eyes studied you with a mix of curiosity and worry. It was tender in a way that made you want to smack him. He had no business caring so much. An inexplicable flare of anger boiled in your chest.

“Why do you care anyways?” you spat, ripping your hands out of his grasp. “You barely fucking know me. Don’t start pretending that this-” you gestured at the space between the two of you “-is anything more than what it is: an arranged marriage that neither of us fucking wanted.” 

Your breathing was getting shallower, more frantic. The feeling of terror was blooming in your chest, fueled by rage and the unquenchable desire to sink into the floor and be ignored. The words were coming quicker now, falling out of your mouth before you knew what you were saying.

“So just leave me alone, don’t worry about it, because I’m not your goddamn concern!”

Matthias didn’t recoil from your outburst. He held your gaze, his handsome face a portrait-worthy picture of concern. 

“I care because you’re clearly in pain. Do I need any other reason?”

That blaze of anger that you’d directed outwards suddenly turned inwards. Shame bubbled in your gut as you realized he wasn’t going to turn away from you. You hadn’t realized it until now, but that was why your anger rose up so quickly. It was trying to shield the parts of you that didn’t want to be looked at or questioned. And until now, it had always worked. People gave you a wide berth, even your “friends” the Crows. All it took was a flash of anger every now and again, and you’d had everything you thought you’d ever wanted: privacy, isolation, and no one close enough to hurt you ever again. 

Until now, that was. 

As you looked across the space separating you and Matthias, your anger and terror was beginning to give way to something bigger and softer. You couldn’t name the emotion, but it hung somewhere between comfort and longing. Those feelings were unusual for you. The closest you came to comfortable in relationships was around animals, horses in particular. You’d never met another person that brought this out of you before. 

You stared at Matthias incredulously and in a long, weighty silence. To his credit, he held your gaze patiently, seemingly content to give you peace while you plundered clumsily through these strange emotions. 

After a few minutes, you cleared your throat and offered him a very hesitant half-smile. “I can’t talk about it with you,” you told him. The same heartbreaking look of disappointment darkened his face momentarily. “Not today,” you went on. “But one day. I will. I promise.” 

You didn’t like the way a promise made you feel, but as soon as you tossed those words out towards him, you knew it was the right thing. Some knot of tension deep inside you snapped loose at those words. You’d hold to your promise, too. You knew it as much as you knew that the sky above is blue. 

Matthias chewed on the inside of his lip, clearly a bit dissatisfied that he wasn’t going to get satisfaction today. After a few moments, he nodded. “One day,” he echoed. You nodded, dropping your eyes to the floor and fidgeting with the ring on your left hand. It still felt odd to wear a wedding ring there, but you were growing fond of the way the sapphire and garnet in the band caught the firelight. 

“Why these stones?” you blurted out suddenly. Matthias cocked an eyebrow at you, as surprised by your off-topic question as you were. Something about the vulnerability of your promise had loosened your tongue. You worried he would think you silly and shake his head, but instead he smiled, gazing gently at the ring on your finger.

“Fire and ice,” he replied cryptically with a mischievous grin. 

You looked down at the ring - the two stones cut in long rectangles, set so closely together that they touched, ringed by small diamonds. Fire and ice… opposites at face value, but complementing forces. Equal in their destructive potential. Maybe that was what Matthias was getting at… and yet, when balanced, weren’t fire and ice also life-giving? 

Your eyes met his. He was still smiling at you, his expression unreadable. No longer a smirk, something different now. Pride, maybe? Although you knew you didn’t deserve it, you couldn’t help but bask a little in the admiration you saw in his eyes. A blush stained your cheeks as you looked back at the ring. 

“You and me?” you asked, eyes darting between the rings and the man across from you. 

His smile confirmed your theory, and he nodded once. 

“You and me,” he repeated softly. “Fire and ice.”

You let the light refracting in the two stones dazzle you for a moment longer. Fire and ice, you thought. Matthias and I… 

I could get used to that.

#shadow and bone requests #matthias helvar x y/n #matthias helvar x you #matthias helvar imagine #matthias helvar #matthias helvar x reader #matthias helvar angst #shadow and bone fic #matthias helvar requests

[hottpinkpenguin]

hello <3

will there be a chapter 5 for cahir story?

yes! It's here! cross-posted on AO3 :)

[hottpinkpenguin]

A Promise - Arthur Fleck X Reader

A/n: this is my first post in way too long AND for a new fandom/character. much love to those of you who keep sticking around! i am trying to dig in and write more. Pairing: Arthur Fleck/Ledger Joker X Reader (named "Deirdre") Summary: You went to school with Arthur and were one of the only people kind to him despite his odd behaviors and reputation as a misfit. As the two of you grew older, your friendship began to deepen into something more, until you were suddenly pulled out of Gotham by a family death and never returned… until now. Warnings: dark themes; combining of Nolan/Ledger Joker with Arthur Fleck backstory; major character death; angst angst ANGST Word Count: 7342

It was a brisk day in March. You’d missed Gotham, although there was also something about the city that made you incredibly sad. You weren’t sure if it was the pitifully overcrowded housing projects everywhere you turned, the shocking spike in crime since you were here last, or the memories of things you’d lost when you’d left almost fifteen years ago. You’d been young then, only twenty three, and at the time it had seemed like you really had a chance to do something, to be someone, despite the oppressive decay of Gotham’s society. You’d been a young musician, struggling to make a living playing the piano at different five-star restaurants to Gotham’s elite. Most of the time you played classics - Gershwin, Joplin, Tchaikovsky, Beethoven - whatever the patrons asked, you could provide. But sometimes you slipped in an original composition of yours or two. Your managers hated that, and made sure you knew it. Several had even fired you for it. 

“They just don’t know real talent,” Arthur used to say to you as he’d listen to you tickle out a new song on the ancient piano you’d managed to avoid selling and kept in your studio apartment just down the hall from where Arthur lived with his mother. 

Arthur…

It’d been so long since you’d thought of him, since you’d let yourself think of him. He was what made you sad about Gotham, and in the deepest recesses of your heart you could admit that to yourself. You’d written to him a few times, and received a few replies; but time and distance had eroded that relationship until there was nothing but years of silence and regret between you. 

You still remembered the pain in his eyes when you’d told him you had to leave...

**the rest is on AO3, you can read it here!**

#arthur fleck #arthur fleck x oc #arthur fleck imagine #joker #joker x oc #joker imagine #ledger joker #heath ledger imagine #joaquin phoenix #joaquin phoenix imagine #heath ledger #dc joker

[hottpinkpenguin]

Just wanted to let you know that I check your blog at least once a day to see if there has been an update on your cahir story!! It is FANTASTIC!!! xx

A/n: your patience has been rewarded! I just posted chapter 4 on AO3! read it here

[hottpinkpenguin]

AAAAAH I JUST FOUND YOU AND I LOVE YOUR WORK 🫶🤍 please release more smut 🙈 HAHAHAHAH more nikolai lantsov too please 🥰🥵

can you do a smut with "This won't hurt." "Like hell it won't." HAHAHAHAHAHHA nikolai lantso x reader 🙈

thank youuuu 😘🫶🤍

Hurt Me - Nikolai Lantsov X Fem!Reader

18+ only!!! MINORS DNI

A/N: apparently the cure for the terrible writer's block I've had is absolute filthy smut! who knew?! thanks anon for this request, and i'm sorry it took me so long to get to it! i'm finally back y'all!!!!!!!!! Word Count: 3,658 Warnings: unprotected sex; anal sex; oral sex mutual; praise kink; fingering; no lube (don't do that); sprinkles of Dom/Sub vibes but super minor

“Doesn’t everyone love a little pain with their pleasure?”

Nikolai threw the covers off his body, rolling over with an exasperated sigh in the stifling darkness of his bedchamber. Ever since he’d heard you say those words over one too many glasses of kvas last week, he couldn’t think of anything else. Let alone sleep. Each time he dreamt, his mind tormented him with fantasies that left him sweating, restless, and hard. 

That was his predicament now. The dream he’d just woken from was receding from his consciousness as his mind fully surfaced out of sleep. Part of him welcomed the reprieve from his insatiable lust, but part of him lamented the loss of what had felt so real. He grabbed at the fading flickers of his dream: the sound of your breathing as it quickened, the feeling of your soft skin under his palms, the sight of you straddling his lap, your hips driving down onto his hard cock, chasing your high and pulling him closer to his own… 

“God damn it.” He sat up in bed, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. A faint sheen of sweat danced across his shirtless torso. His dick was hardening the more he clung to the sensations of his dreams. He stood from the bed, frustrated in all the wrong ways, and strode over to the double doors that opened onto the private balcony overlooking the Grand Palace’s summer garden. It was a warm, humid night; a sheer curtain of clouds obscured the stars and cast a hazy ring around the moon. A gentle breeze blew the sweet scent of night jasmine into the bedchamber, cooling the sweat on his chest. Nikolai tried to still his breathing, forcing his mind away from reminiscing about you and onto less gratifying topics. 

His efforts paid off for a few moments, his mind momentarily landing on unrelated nonsense like the guest list for his family’s upcoming ball and the names of long-disputed Ravkan territories. But, inevitably, Nikolai’s mind fell idle and turned back to you. At least he wasn’t hard now, but the dying embers of his desire wouldn’t require much encouragement to reignite. 

Never going to happen, he chided himself sternly, swatting away images of your sensual face. These images were true memories - not the conjurings of his sleeping psyche. You were his brother’s betrothed, after all. Even if it was an arranged marriage, Nikolai shuddered to contemplate the implications of seeing his desires through. Most of all, the implications for you, if the secret was ever discovered… 

She’s not happy with the match though. Surely, something could be arranged. 

Nikolai’s hopeful side - or maybe it was just his sexually frustrated side? - tossed back poorly thought-out rebuttals to the arguments of logic and propriety. Before long, he was lost in thought, his brows furrowed and his arms crossed as he leaned against the doorframe to his balcony. The two sides of him warred with each other, all while a simmering passion threatened to boil over once again.

He was so distracted by his own thoughts that he missed the first knock on his door. The second one was louder, more insistent. He startled, an irrational guilt overcoming him as he wondered for a split second if he’d awoken someone, maybe by calling out your name in his sleep or some similarly mortifying mishap. Shaking that thought from his head, he made his way over to the door that led into the hallway from his chamber. He opened the door a crack, surprised that anyone else would be awake at this late hour. 

The sight of your eyes, wide and pleading, shimmering in the darkness of the hallway ignited the need that had thrown him out of his dreams. His mouth went dry as he stumbled over his tongue. 

“What are you doing?” he whispered urgently through the cracked doorway. You cast a nervous glance down the darkened hallway before leaning close, so close Nikolai could smell the hint of bergamot and orange peel from your shampoo. 

“Please, can I come in?” Your voice was low and rough, like it had been dragged over gravel. Nikolai felt his cock twitch appreciatively. He grit his teeth as he contemplated for the briefest moment whether to acquiesce or not. You were here - right here - and there was something in the rise and fall of your chest that told him why you had come to his chamber in the dead of night. His dream was so close he could literally smell it. 

Vasily will have her killed if you do this. 

The thought came from a small and quickly shrinking part of his mind, but it sent ice through his veins. Nikolai knew it was true. If Vasily found out that Nikolai had a midnight rendezvous with his bride-to-be, even if the meeting went no further than conversation, Vasily’s preening arrogance at securing your hand in marriage would turn murderous in an instant. That rage wouldn’t land on his younger brother, but on you. 

“Y/n, you shouldn’t be h-”

“I know, Niko. But please… I need you.”

Your eyes swallowed Nikolai’s arguments, and before he had the conscious thought to do so, he stepped aside and swung the door open to allow you through.

You entered with a serene confidence that stunned Nikolai. Before the door had quietly latched back into place, you had connected your lips with his. A husky groan of relief clawed its way out of your throat at the contact, and Nikolai felt the last paper-thin wall of resistance snap. He grabbed at you, his hands ripping through the lace-trimmed silk of your nightgown with ease to expose your back and shoulders to him. 

“We really shouldn’t,” he argued pointlessly between gasping breaths as the two of you explored each others’ mouths. You shushed him by twining your hands in his hair and thrusting your tongue past his lips. Both of you knew this was a horrendous, dangerous, and potentially damning decision, but the chance for turning back had passed you both by long ago. This had become inevitable between the two of you long before tonight, Nikolai realized as he latched his mouth onto the soft skin at the base of your neck, grabbing a fistful of your hair and gently pulling your head back to expose your jawline and the moon-drenched top of your breasts to him.

Nikolai felt his cock stiffen against the warmth of you, your hips grinding down against the top of his leg. Your hands were all over him, nails grazing over his exposed chest, up over his shoulders and down the planes of his shoulder blades. He felt drunk, surrounded by you as he let his greedy mouth dive down to your breasts. He pulled the half-tattered gown down, letting it glide over your ass to the floor like water. Your breasts were full, nipples hard against the night air. He grabbed one, kneading the sensitive bud between his fingers as his mouth latched to the other. You gasped, grabbing the back of his head and pulling him down onto you as your body rose into his mouth. He heard you moan his name, the sound even sweeter than the pale approximation he’d managed to conjure in his dreams. He watched as one of your hands shifted from his skin to yours, trailing down the front of your stomach until it buried itself between your legs. Your pace quickened as the combination of his mouth and hands on your breasts complimented the arousal you offered yourself with your fingers. Nikolai could smell your sex as you continued to touch yourself, melting further into passion with each passing moment. 

“The bed,” he commanded, pushing you rougher than needed towards the disarray of sheets and pillows where he slept. You obeyed, your eyes sparkling at the note of control that tinted his words. Doesn’t everyone like a little pain with their pleasure? Your words flooded back to him, suddenly giving him an idea. 

“Do you trust me?” he asked, his voice a breathless growl. You didn’t hesitate, nodding as you sank down onto the bed and began working on the lacings of his trousers. Nikolai let you undress him fully, his dick springing free of his pants eagerly. He watched with undiluted need as you licked a long stripe from the base of his cock to the head, moaning slightly as you took his length into your mouth.

“Fuck, that’s good.” He threw his head back, his hands coming to the back of your head, coaxing you lower onto his member. The sensation of your lips wrapping around his shaft, your tongue dancing on the sensitive head, and your hands confidently pressing on a spot directly behind his balls made him see stars. You began to work your mouth up and down on his cock, bottoming out at the back of your throat each time. Nikolai’s heart shuddered in his chest, the muscles of his back and buttocks squeezing as he found himself shockingly close to orgasm far too soon for his liking. 

Using what very little composure he had left, he pulled your head off of him. You pouted up at him, the glint of frustration in your eye told him that you knew exactly how close you’d had him to losing control and that you liked it.

“I need you inside me.” Nikolai shivered at your words, mesmerized as you leaned back on the bed, exposing yourself to him invitingly. Your pussy was swollen and glistening with wetness. Normally, Nikolai would have driven himself inside you right then and there, risking a premature end to the passion for the bliss of feeling his cock totally surrounded by you. But, if Nikolai’s plan for mixing pain with pleasure was going to come to fruition, he needed you wetter and he needed himself further from climax.

He joined you on the bed, kneeling in between your legs and guiding your thighs onto his shoulders. You propped your head up on a mountain of pillows, excitement all over your face as you registered what was to come. You wanted a view, and he was more than happy to oblige.

He closed his mouth over your pussy, his tongue lapping at the juice. You gasped, arching your back and writhing on the soft sheets. 

“Nikolai, my God, that’s good.” Your praise egged him on, and he let his lips quickly find their way to your clit. Gently, he danced his tongue over it in a figure-eight pattern, alternating in a few flicks and sucks. The sounds that spilled out of you were quickly becoming less coherent, your body beginning to tighten, legs trembling ever so slightly. Nikolai pressed his hands against the back of your ass, bending your legs towards your breast and giving him a better angle before diving back into your pussy. He let his movements become less calculated, his tongue and lips slapping and slurping against you. You cried out, quickly stifling yourself with a hand over your mouth. He glanced up at you, your eyes falling closed under heavy lids. You were close to breaking loose, your pussy beginning to clench and your body quivering like a leaf in a strong breeze. Nikolai let one of your legs go, penetrating you with two quick fingers. His mouth returned to focus on your clit while his fingers began to stroke quickly and forcefully at the throbbing walls of your vagina. 

“My god, Nikolai, I’m gonna cum!” You were trying to quiet yourself, but pleasure had warped the edges of your perception and dulled your care for caution. Your words felt like a vice around Nikolai’s own pleasure. He ground his lips down onto your clit as you began to mewl and quake under him, his fingers drenching in the evidence of your pleasure as your sex contracted on them. He lapped and thrust you through your orgasm, watching as your face contorted in pure bliss, your breasts heaving and your thighs shaking. Nikolai forced himself to commit the vision and the taste of your pleasure to memory. He guided you down the other side of your orgasm, and when you finally sat up to look down at him, cheeks flushed and forehead beaded with sweat, Nikolai let himself up from between your legs. 

“You’re going to ruin me for other men, you know,” you told him breathlessly. “I’ll never have enough of you.” Nikolai’s pride roared at the praise, his heart pounding on the inside of his ribs. 

“Flip over.” Although it was a command, Nikolai knew you heard the promise in his words: there’s more to come. You obliged, rolling onto your belly as you picked your hips off of the sheets. You looked back at him, a mix of curiosity and impatience as Nikolai spat into his hand. 

“We can’t risk it,” he explained as he stroked his spit over his stiff cock. “I won’t risk anything happening to you if Vasily finds out.” For a brief moment, your expression turned serious. You understood what Nikolai was referring to. Your wedding to Vasily was still months away - plenty of time to begin showing if, Saints forbid, this led to a pregnancy. Neither of you could risk that, but especially not you. 

You’d never done what Nikolai was suggesting before, and although you’d always been curious, you felt a prick of anxiety. Something in your eyes must have betrayed your fear, because Nikolai stretched forward, hovering his body over you as he balanced on strong forearms. He kissed you, this kiss less fiery than the ones you’d shared earlier at the doorway. It had a note of softness to it, reassurance. 

“Only if you want to,” he murmured against your lips. The warmth of his body around you, the sound of his calm voice twining around your ears, melted away the nervous energy. 

“I want to,” you replied softly, lips reconnecting with his. He reared back, coming up to kneel on his knees. He grabbed your hips and raised them until they were level with his own. His cock waited expectantly, slick with his own spit and girthy.

“This won’t hurt,” he offered in what you knew was meant to be reassuring. 

You looked back at him with a sly smirk. “Like hell it won’t,” you shot back. You felt Nikolai line himself up with your ass, pressing gently at your entrance. The sensation was different, the tightness much more than what you’d expected. You felt him hesitate - you knew he was waiting for a sign from you, for you to lead him. 

You pressed your hips backward slowly. He steadied his slick cock in his hands, and you watched as he bit his own lip, staring down at the sight of you accepting his length. 

You gasped as you felt the full pressure of his head enter your body, stretching you in a blinding spasm. He stilled, looking up at you questioningly. The sight of him - chest heaving with exertion but his attention wholly devoted to you, letting you take control - relaxed you. You felt the muscles squeezing his dick release. In a moment of impulse, you drove your hips back with a hard jerk until his cock was completely sheathed in your ass. It was incredible, a mix of pain and bliss you’d never felt before. Your pussy twitched appreciatively, and you felt the beginnings of another climax begin to bubble in your core.

“We all love pain and pleasure, Nikolai,” you told him as his mouth fell open into a wide O, his eyes rolling back in his head at the sensation. “Take it.”

His eyes snapped to you, and you nodded, confirming that you’d just given him the permission to let loose. His hands gripped onto your hip bones as he slid himself backwards, his dick almost completely springing free before he buried himself inside you once again. Over and over he thrusted, in and out, his movements hard but controlled. The sound of slapping skin filled the room. You felt him bend forward, one hand finding its way to your clit. He continued to pound into you, the new sensation exciting and gratifying. When he began to dance his fingertips around your pink bud in small, controlled circles, you felt the edge of bliss roar up to meet you. 

You reached backwards, steadying yourself up on all fours with one hand as the other grabbed at the back of his thigh. You met his own forward thrusts with a backward hitch of your own. Nikolai gasped, his free hand digging into the flesh on your hip. 

“I’ve dreamt of you for so long,” he muttered, his words halting as he continued to pound you from behind. His movements were getting less controlled, and your attention was wavering as your orgasm began to overtake your awareness. You felt yourself slacken slightly under him. The hand he’d devoted to your clit retreated, finding its way back to your hip for better leverage. You replaced his fingers with your own, moaning his name in encouragement. 

“I’m close, baby,” he replied gruffly. His pace quickened until his thrusts knocked the air from your lungs, your knees practically levitating off the bed as he took you with the roughness his own orgasm needed.

You fell apart against him as he slammed into you, over and over again. Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes, your entire body convulsing with a new pleasure. Your fingers coaxed your clit to its fever pitch. You let yourself slacken slightly as Nikolai’s hips drove into you one last time. He reached down and pulled you up until you were flush against him, your back against his warm torso. He buried his face in your hair as you felt his cock release inside you, your name sighing in and out of his mouth with each breath. The two of you plummeted together into bliss, each of you lost to the moment. Only the heat between your bodies and the feel of his strong arms wrapped across your chest tethered your mind to the ground. The rest of you floated on a torrent of blossoming bliss. 

You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that, tangled together like vines. It was long enough that you felt him begin to soften inside you. Bodily needs forced the two of you to come down from the clouds. He withdrew from you gently, cooing soft praise into your ear as he kissed your neck. 

“You were so good for me,” he whispered. The sound sent shivers up and down your spine. You twisted around to kiss him, your lips finding his easily. He was trembling somewhat, overstimulated. You smiled against his lips, a hand tracing the hard edge of his jaw. 

“Get me a towel?” you asked. Nikolai’s eyes opened, and he nodded eagerly. His commanding demeanor evaporated, replaced by an assiduous lover. He clumsily shuffled off the bed, dragging his trousers on haphazardly as he hurried over the wash basin in the corner of his chamber. He doused two cloths in the water, warmed from the underside by still-glowing embers from the now cold fireplace, and returned to you. He offered you one which you used to clean yourself, while the other he gently wiped across your brow and down your neck. He lifted the hair from your neck, dabbing at the base of your skull and along your collarbones. You’d broken into a sweat from the night’s exertions, but it was quickly cooling on your skin as you felt your body sliding towards what promised to be a deep sleep. The warmth from the washcloth felt divine against your skin. You groaned appreciatively as Nikolai ran the cloth down the length of your arms before moving on to your breasts. You let him continue to attend to you as you sank into his bed. 

You wondered if he’d argue with you spending the night. It wasn’t the wise decision by any means, and it only increased the risk of Vasily finding out. You still had many hours before the palace servants would begin their morning rounds of stoking fires and heating tub water. They would be the first to discover you missing your own chamber and displaced in Nikolai’s bed. You trusted your own hand servants to keep the secret, but knew nothing of Nikolai’s personal staff. 

But, much to your contentment, he offered no rebuttal. Instead, he wiped you down with tender attentiveness and pulled the warm blankets over your naked body. You heard him wring out the washcloths into the basin. A few moments later, he slid into bed next to you. You turned your back to him and he molded against your body, an arm weaving around your side to hold you close. When he stilled behind you, you could feel the whisper of his breath tickling your ear and the reassuring beat of his heart against your back. 

“You’re not the only one who’s ruined, you know.” His voice was so quiet it almost didn’t pull you up from the fog of sleep. He planted a soft kiss just beneath your earlobe. You squirmed deeper into his embrace, a smile playing across your lips. 

“I’m afraid, my prince,” you replied after a few moments, “that this will indeed hurt.” 

Both of you knew that you were speaking to the kind of hurt that stays with you, a hurt that bruises your heart and bends your life under its weight. But neither of you were willing to forgo the pleasure you’d found tonight. You were in too deep now, and the future would have to take care of itself. 

“That’s alright, love. We all like a little pain with our pleasure.” 

You giggled at Nikolai’s quip, snuggling against him once more. For the first time since meeting, you each found an uninterrupted, dreamless sleep…

#nikolai lantsov smut #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lanstov x reader #nikolai lantsov imagine #nikolai lantsov shadow and bone #nikolai lantsov requests #shadow and bone requests #patrick gibson smut #patrick gibson x reader #patrick gibson x you #nikolai lanstov x y/n #patrick gibson x y/n

[hottpinkpenguin]

Are your requests open??

they are! i've been a bit slow on posting lately but still taking requests :)

[hottpinkpenguin]

Reasons, Ch.5 - Cassian Andor series

Female reader insert Summary: You're a droidsmith on Ferrix when a handsome stranger walks in one day with a hopelessly damaged droid. You agree to take on the repairs for the stranger, a decision that will change the direction of your lives forever. A/N: sorry for the delay on posting this! i hit a bit of writer's block but slowly working my way through it Word Count: 1,951 Content Warnings for: canon-divergence; cursing Taglist: @mithicakurogo @nonniecannie @freerangesweets @zbeez-outlet @chicken-fifi @queerponcho @theatergirlmgm

Cassian gave one more scan of the darkened street before motioning you to follow him. You followed close behind, his wariness setting your nerves on edge. The outskirts of Niamos’ capital city were deserted, only the distant sound of ocean waves lapping at a shoreline and the occasional gentle breeze rustling the large fronds of the palm trees above. You’d been walking for hours, darting from one abandoned alley to the next, tracing Cassian’s footsteps carefully and taking your cue from him. Every muscle and bone in your body felt heavy like lead. 

As if he could read your thoughts, Cassian turned to you. “It’s just up there,” he whispered, pointing to a small, nondescript building nestled between a holovid shop and a grocer, both storefronts darkened and empty. You nodded, grateful to think you might be able to rest soon. 

Cassian reached back with his left hand until his fingers found your wrist, gently twining around it. He darted across the dim street, tugging you behind him protectively. When the two of you finally reached the doorway, Cassian dropped the pack from his back and began rummaging through it, looking for a key you assumed. 

“Hey there! You two!”

You jumped as a distant voice split the quiet of the sleeping, semi-abandoned street. Cassian froze, both of you exhausted from running and hoping against hope that you weren’t hitting this roadblock mere inches from safety.

“It’s past curfew! What are you doing out here? Get your identification out!”

Shit. You saw the same panic in Cassian’s eyes as he met yours. 

“City security,” he murmured. He rose from a crouch on the front step, looking over your shoulder in the direction of the voice. The hair on the back of your neck prickled, but for some reason you couldn’t bring yourself to turn and face the threat. 

“What are we going to do?” you hissed. By now, the Empire would have your identities flagged across the galaxy. Showing your identification now would render your harrowing escape from Ferrix completely irrelevant. Niamos security would hold you until the Empire collected you, and from there…

You swallowed thickly, trying to hold onto logic as you felt your hands begin to shake. 

“Do you trust me?” Cassian murmured as he gently pulled you between him and the doorway, out of the line of sight of the approaching guard.

“You two! Identifications!”

The voice was louder now as the guard drew closer. Cassian gently gripped your chin, guiding your face back to meet his gaze. 

“Y/n, do you trust me?” he repeated. 

You sighed in frustration. “Cassian, do you think if I didn’t trust you that I would be here ri-”

Before you could finish, his lips crashed against yours, swallowing the remainder of your rhetorical question. You tried to pull back in momentary surprise, a squeak of shock loosing form your throat, but you felt Cassian gently press himself against you, flattening your back against the doorway of the building behind you. He raised his right arm and rested it on the wall next to your face, hiding your face from the flashlight beam of the security guard.

Your thoughts scattered as adrenaline surged in your blood, a mix of fear and thrill. You hesitated for only a moment before you returned Cassian’s kiss. His lips were warm and soft, the rhythm of his kiss felt as natural as your own heartbeat. You felt his free hand come to rest against your hip, pulling your pelvis away from the wall and into his embrace. Your heart stuttered in your chest at the sensation, and you let yourself melt further into Cassian’s warmth.

“‘Ey! You two! I said, identifications!”

The guard couldn’t have been more than ten paces away now. The sound of his voice felt like an anchor, dragging you down out of the bliss of the moment. A surge of resentment flooded your stomach as Cassian broke the kiss. He didn’t move his arm from the wall next to your face, and you noticed the way he shifted his body to keep you obscured from the guard’s light.

“S-sorry sir!” Cassian called back, his words slurred. He swayed unsteadily on his feet. For half a breath, you wondered if it was the kiss that had undone his composure. You knitted your brows in confusion as he continued to teeter like a tree caught in a strong wind. Cassian caught your eye and winked at you, a half smirk lighting up his handsome face. 

“We… we-uh… we’re just-” Cassian’s voice was thick and halting, as if his tongue had swelled up. You watched as Cassian fumbled goofily with the pocket at the side of his pants. 

“Where are you two coming from then?” The guard kept approaching, although his demanding tone had been replaced by a calmer wariness.

Cassian fiddled futilely with his pocket, turning half-round to face the guard. You hid your face from the direct light, tucking yourself under the shadow of Cassian’s still-raised arm. 

“We were…uhm, damnitall,” Cassian cursed under his breath as he continued to pluck futilely at the snap on his pocket, “-at the Graalon Cantina.” 

The pieces clicked into place at Cassian’s words. His slurred speech, exaggeratedly uncoordinated movements, the lie about being at a cantina: he was pretending to be drunk. Finally understanding the ploy, you reached around his waist and yanked him against you with what you hoped was a convincingly reckless display of abandon.

“C’mon baby,” you pouted, trying to mimic Casian’s imitation slurring. “Where’s the keys?”

Cassian shot you a sidelong look of surprise, a flicker of delight in his dark eyes. 

“Sshsssh, c’mon, getyer identificashun out,” he replied, his tongue stumbling expertly on the consonants. Over his shoulder, you heard the guard chuckle. 

“Graalon Cantina, eh? Sounds like a fun night.” The guard’s previously commanding bark had softened, and you heard him chuckle knowingly. Your heart leapt at the thought that he might actually be falling for it. 

“Hopefully i’ssnot over yet,” Cassian called back, earning a louder guffaw from the guard. You let out a giggle, adding a hiccup at the end for effect. Even though it was an act, your heart skipped a beat at the implications of Cassian’s smart retort. Don’t be so desperate, you chided yourself, trying to stay focused on selling the lie for the guard. 

“Alright, well listen, it’s well past curfew. Normally I’d have to issue you both citations, but I hate to ruin the fun. Is this your place?” 

“Yessir,” Cassian replied. His head had dipped down towards yours, a few locks of his dark hair falling loose 20forehead. You could see his individual eyelashes from this distance, hear the sound of his breath. Taking advantage of the scene that you’d set up for the guard, you let yourself lean into Cassian, catching his lips in yours again. This time, it was Cassian who was surprised, his reaction delayed but greedy. You felt a flush stain your cheeks and throat to think that there was a total stranger watching the fun. Is this your place?” 

“Alright you two, get in there before I have to give you a second citation for public indecency. Don’t let it happen again.” 

You felt yourself relax at the guard’s words. Cassian smiled, fighting down the note of relief as he replied gratefully. The surge of relief numbed the accuracy of his faux-drunk slurring, but the guard didn’t seem to notice. You watched as the beam moved down the street, the guard’s footsteps fading, leaving you and Cassian a quiet darkness against the doorway. When you could no longer hear his boots on the cobbled street, you and Cassian let out a unified shaky exhale.

“That was genius,” you murmured, a note of awe saturating your words. You caught a glimmer in Cassian’s eyes even in the darkness. You hoped he would lean in and kiss you again. But instead, he stepped away from you, dropping his gaze and clearing his throat in embarrassment. 

“I’ve always been a good actor,” he mumbled, raking a hand through his hair as if trying to shake off a weird dream. Your hopeful heart crumpled in your chest. An act, that chastising voice reminded you. That’s all it was. 

You swallowed, trying to wipe the breathlessness off your face as you nodded in agreement, straightening and stepping aside from the door. Cassian returned to his pack, fishing through its contents as an awkward silence stretched between you two. He finally withdrew a small scramble key, its side marked with the red starbird symbol of the Rebellion. You watched as Cassian slotted it into the keyhole at the door. With a soft click, the door sprang open an inch, revealing a pitch blackness in the interior of the building. 

“This is an old Resistance safe house,” Cassian whispered as he pushed open the door and beckoned you inside. You obliged, barely registering his words as you tried to settle your mind. The inside of the house was so dark you couldn’t see anything. You shuffled in as far as you dared, leaving enough room for Cassian to crowd in behind you. He did, letting the door shut out the soft noises of the night. In the total darkness inside, all you could hear was two sets of breathing as Cassian fumbled along the walls next to the door, searching for a lightswitch. 

“Why are you so hellbent on helping me?” The question slipped out of your mouth before you had a chance to stop it. Something about the fading adrenaline of the kiss mingled with the sting of your hurt pride at Cassian’s rebuke made you bold. It didn’t hurt that you couldn’t see him either. You weren’t sure you wanted to know what expression he was wearing at that moment. 

There was a moment of heavy quiet as nothing but the sounds of your breaths hung in the empty entryway. 

You heard a soft click as the lights flicked on. The hallway stretched out long in front of you, a row of windows visible at the back of the house. Beyond the windows, you could see a very dim horizon over an expanse of ocean. Niamos was primarily an ocean planet, although you hadn’t realized how close you’d been to the shore outside in the darkened city street. 

Across the foyer, Cassian was staring at you. His eyes looked haunted and heavy. He moved towards you a fraction of an inch, his hand twitching at his side as if he were going to reach out and touch you. Your heart twisted with restless hope. But something stopped him, his movement freezing and extinguishing as his face contorted slightly from something painful you couldn’t see. When he spoke, the intensity in his voice hit you like a ton of bricks. 

“I’ve got my reasons,” he replied cryptically before he picked up his pack and disappeared down the hall, turning right at the end and climbing up a stairway you couldn’t see. 

“You take the downstairs bedroom,” he called back to you. “We should only be here for a few days before I can get you safe passage to Coruscant.”  His footsteps faded into the recesses of the house, which was apparently much larger than the unassuming doorway let on. You heard the soft thud of a door closing, plunging you into a lonely silence. You stayed rooted to the spot in the entryway, grappling with the realization that you were no longer content to let Cassian say goodbye…

*read chapter 6 here! If you'd like to be tagged in future chapters, please let me know

#cassian andor x you #cassian andor #cassian andor fanfiction #cassian andor x reader #cassian andor imagine #rogue one cassian andor #rogue one imagines #rogue one fanfiction #rogue one imagine #andor imagine #andor fanfiction #diego luna #diego luna x reader #diego luna x you #diego luna x y/n #diego luna imagine

[hottpinkpenguin]

kirigan one shot, where the reader(fem) treats his face wounds and he feels at ease becuz for some reason her gift releases him from his pain, he cries(sobbing)all leading up to a very sad yet soft, fluffy end. as much as I hate him, I feel like the man just desperately needs a hug from someone

A/n: he really does need a hug, and i totally volunteer. thanks for the request anon!!

Darkling X Grisha GN!Reader Word Count: 2769 Warnings: mild mentions of blood

You held your hands over the boy’s ghastly leg wound, the flesh underneath stitching itself together slowly. His broken, chesty sobs slowed as you poured your gift onto his wound. You felt the toll an entire day of healing was taking on you, but the boy on the stretcher beneath you was too young to turn away. His blue eyes softened as you heard the bone snap back into place, his ankle turning to its correct angle. You focused, your head beginning to ring and swim with exhaustion as you channeled the Small Science down to his leg. Nearby, you heard his parents begin to pray over you, his mother weeping noisily. 

When the wound was completely closed up and the worst of the bruising faded, you dropped your hands and let go of the grip on your powers. You had to steady yourself on the edge of the bed to keep from falling. Your vision was dotted with white, your ears sounded like they’d been filled with cotton. You heard your cousin Donovan usher the family out of your Healer’s tent as the parents profusely thanked him, trying to offer him their money, a goat, and whatever precious items that could think of.

You sank onto the bed, dabbing at the sweat on your brow as you fought off a wave of dizziness. Your breath was ragged like you’d just run for miles. The destruction left by the group of mercenaries that had torn through the bordertown had felt never ending, but you were grateful to know the boy was the last person who’d need your services. You’d need to sleep for days to recover. 

“Y/n, there’s one more.” 

You could hear the apology in Donovan’s voice when he spoke. He’d poked his head in through the tent flap, dark bags under his eyes.

You shook your head, guilt-ridden. “Donovan, I can’t, I’m sorry. Please ask one of the other Healers.” 

“He asked for you specifically.” Something about Donovan’s voice grabbed you. You looked at him, questions swirling in your eyes. He only tilted his head at you meaningfully before stepping aside. 

A tall man clad in dark robes stepped into your tent. His eyes were so dark you couldn’t see his pupils, his hair the color of obsidian, with four ragged black scars traversing his handsome face. Something about him was so… familiar. 

You tried to rise from the bed, but your legs wobbled and you felt yourself pitch forward.

The stranger reacted quickly and agilely, leaping forward to catch you before you hit the ground. 

“You’re exhausted,” he observed. His voice sounded dark and heavy with a sorrow that hovered around him like a fog.

He helped you back onto the cot, its surface damp with sweat and blood from the day’s patients. The dark-eyed stranger looked around the tent, surveying the scene with intent eyes. Finally, his gaze found yours again. 

“I’m sorry to have bothered you,” he announced gallantly. “I can see you’ve done enough for one day.” 

He turned, his black robes whirling around him with a dramatic flourish. You caught a fleeting glance of his side profile: a straight nose, strong jaw, dark brows framing darker eyes. Proud mouth with a slight downturn at the corners. 

General Kirigan.

Recognition slammed into you like a freight train. You’d only seen him once before and from afar, but you’d never forget. But he was dead, wasn’t he? Your mind went blank for a moment as you watched him move towards the open flap on your tent.

“Wait!” 

He hesitated at the edge of your tent, half turning back to you. 

“General?” Your voice was small and questioning. 

He turned fully back to you, the lamplight illuminating those ghastly scars across his face. The flesh at the seam of the wounds was discolored, as if the marks were poisoned. You’d never seen scars like that before. 

He gave you a small, bashful smile, dropping his gaze.

“Aleksander will do nicely,” he answered you. It was him. 

“But… the Fold? We… I thought you were dead…” Your voice trailed off as you realized how silly you sounded. Why should General Kirigan care what an untrained Healer at the edge of Ravka thought of his fate?

But, much to your surprise, he walked back towards you with a polite smile, his courtly manners on full display. 

“For a moment, so did I.” The smile turned sour on his lips, leaving behind a mangled looking grimace. You felt his heartbeat stutter in his chest, your powers attuned to him like a magnet. You tried to find something to say, your mind still reeling from the shock of finding Ravka’s most famous Grisha in your lowly tent. 

Whatever momentary reverie he’d been swept up in, he surfaced quickly and regained his footing. The flash of pain you’d seen in his expression smoothed back into a mask of graciousness. 

“But, as you can see, I survived. Although… these scars.” His hand came to his face, barely touching the largest, deepest gash that stretched from his right temple across his nose and down the smooth plane of his left cheek. He winced at the contact, however light. “They… pain me. I was told your powers are… up to the task.” 

You blinked dumbly for a moment as his words sank in. 

“You… came here for me?” The notion seemed impossible, but the Black General nodded. 

“I did.” No explanation, no answer to the million questions running through your head. You wondered where to start. What to ask. 

You hesitated a few moments before you realized you were talking to a patient. The famed Shadow Summoner, yes. But a patient still. 

You stood quickly from the cot, adrenaline surging through your exhausted body just enough to keep you upright. You had the wherewithal to be embarrassed by the conditions of the tent. You yanked the stained sheets off the cot, balling them in your hands. 

“I’m so sorry,” you spluttered, shoving the sheets into a corner of the tent. You had no new ones to add to the cot, and very little in the way of creature comforts to offer to notable guests. For his part, the General didn’t seem to mind, his eyes following you as you bustled about, straightening the pillows on the bare mattress and trying to brush down the stray hairs that had broken loose from your braids, curling at the temples from the humid summer night and your own exertion. 

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” he assured you kindly. You beckoned to the mattress once it was as presentable as you could make it. Aleksander sat on it without hesitation, that same genteel smile on his handsome face. “There’s often no time for the niceties when our powers are needed.” 

Your curiosity was piqued by his comment, but you were too flustered to ask anything of it. He adjusted on the squeaky mattress, remaining upright with his hands clasped in his lap. You pulled a stool over from the corner of the tent and placed it next to his right leg, balancing your weight on it. 

“What needs healing?” you asked, retreating to your role of Healer in order to escape your own embarrassment. 

He gestured to the scars again. You swallowed thickly, examining them carefully and trying to avoid his gaze. He studied you intently, his expression calm and unreadable. 

“I’ve never seen scars like this,” you admitted. “I don’t know how to heal these.” 

He nodded, a flicker of disappointment in his eyes. “They are from a Volcra,” he offered by way of explanation, noting the shock on your face. “I do indeed doubt that you’ve seen scars like these before. Whether your gifts work or not, I would be much obliged if you were to try.” 

You nodded earnestly, wiping your hands on the front of the nurses apron you wore. Although you didn’t use the conventional tools of a doctor, you found that people trusted you when you looked more like what they expected. You’d never been trained as a Grisha for the Second Army anyways, so you had no red Kefta to wear like the Healers of Kirigan’s ranks. 

You let your mind loosen its grip on the nerves as you felt yourself sink into the role of Healer. Kirigan nodded at you, sensing the change in tone as you lifted your hands to the side of his face. 

You tapped into the well of your powers that sat at the center of your chest. You had to reach deep, your reserves sapped from the day. But you felt it, the warm energy of the Small Science, and grasped it. With effortful concentration, you pushed the energy up into your shoulders and down the length of your arms into your palms and fingers. Then, you launched it into the space between your fingertips and the General’s face, allowing the Small Science to do the rest. For several moments, nothing happened. The black scars stared back at you unchanged. You dug deeper, pulling all the healing energy you could find buried in you and forcing it into your hands. You were trembling by the end of it, the attempt completely draining you. 

“Here. Let me help you.” You watched with confusion as Aleksander lifted his hands from his lap, until his fingertips barely touched your exposed wrists. As his skin made contact with yours, you felt a new dimension of energy open up to you. Like you’d been standing on the other side of a veil, the force of your powers tripled in a surge of warmth. 

You struggled with the extra effort of channeling the new powers, your concentration narrowing to nothing but your hands and the scars. You felt the power pulse with the inhale and exhale of your own breath, and after a few surges you began to see the skin around Aleksander’s scars start to mend itself. Like wind wiping away ridges in sand, the scars slowly shrunk, one excruciating millimeter at a time. 

Even with whatever added power Aleksander had gifted you by his touch, you felt your body begin to tire. Your head started to pound, your eyelids becoming heavy. 

Aleksander must have noticed too, because he very gently pulled your hands away from his face after a few more moments of effort. When the distance between your hands and his face was too great for your powers to traverse, you felt your body crumple in an exhausted heap on the stool. You let your head hang heavy, your chest heaving. You closed your eyes, breathing through the dull roar in your ears. 

You weren’t sure how long passed - probably only a few breaths. Your awareness came back slowly. You slowly lifted your head, your eyes coming to focus on Aleksander’s face. He hadn’t moved from his seat on the bare mattress at the center of the tent, and you noted with a swell of pride that his scars were noticeably smaller and less disfiguring. 

It took you a second to realize that there were tears pooling in his dark eyes. One loosed itself and traced a slow trail down his unmarred cheek. He was looking at you with a mixture of awe and gratitude, a new smile on his lips. 

“What was that?” you asked bluntly, looking at his hands. “What did you do?” 

“Nothing you couldn’t do yourself,” he replied cryptically. His voice sounded lighter. “I just gave you a boost to reach the full strength of your powers.” 

You couldn’t hazard a guess as to what that meant, or how to interpret what you’d just experienced. Your attention was turning elsewhere as another tear sprang free from his eyes. 

“Normally people stop crying after I’ve healed them,” you observed quietly. “Have I hurt you?” 

His expression turned somber and serious, the gentle smile melting from his lips. 

“No, y/n. You didn’t hurt me. Quite the opposite, actually. I can’t remember the last time I felt this way. I feel almost… free.” 

You weren’t sure if it was the fatigue or the weight in Aleksander’s voice, but your heart ached at his words. Acting on an instinct, you leaned forward and brushed away a teardrop with your thumb against his jawline. You pulled back hesitantly, afraid you’d crossed a line. Aleksander’s hand caught yours. You felt your powers rumbling in response to whatever magic lived in his skin, your heart skipping a beat as he held your hand to his cheek. 

“I’d ask if we could stay a while. Please.” 

You swallowed, uncertain for a moment. You could only imagine what Donovan and the other Healers you traveled with along the Ravkan border would think. Donovan certainly would have told everyone within earshot about who was in your tent by now, if they hadn’t seen the Black General themselves. What would they think if he lingered too long?

You watched as Aleksander’s expression turned from pleading to naked desperation and immediately made your decision. You nodded, unable to deny him a small comfort he so desperately needed. 

His eyes fluttered closed as he nodded gratefully. “Thank you,” he breathed out, nuzzling his cheek against the palm of your hand. “No need to go further,” he added, following your train of thought to the questions you were too afraid to ask. “I’m not asking for your body. Just your presence.”

You felt yourself relax as the sincerity of Aleksander’s words wrapped around you. You let your thumb stroke gently back and forth along the plane of his cheek. His eyes were still closed, and you saw him continue to breathe deeply. 

“What brought you here?” you asked cautiously after a few moments of quiet. 

His eyes opened gently, and you were once again struck by how very dark his irises were. 

“I found myself in need of a Healer with skills beyond just mending flesh. Rumor of your talents reached me. And I was…” His voice trailed off, his eyes glazing over as he became lost in thought for a moment. “I was out of options. These scars aren’t the only wounds I suffered in the Fold.” 

You nodded as if you understood, although in truth you didn’t. You’d heard from some of your past patients that you were more than just a Healer, but you never knew what to make of those statements, so you’d always dismissed them as expressions of gratitude. Most of your patients were otkazat'sya - non-Grisha - so it was particularly easy to explain away their superstitions about your powers. To hear it from the Black General made your mind reel. You tried to tamp down the selfish part of you that was itching to ask more. 

“I’m glad I could help,” you stammered out blandly. Aleksander sighed, leaning against your hand for one more moment before he smiled and began to rise from the cot. 

“I won’t keep you, I can see how exhausted you are.” You rose along with him, trailing after him like a nervous puppy as he made to move towards the tent flap. 

“Those scars aren’t completely healed,” you observed. “I could accompany you, General. If you’d like.” You were astounded by your own boldness, and you weren’t sure if you offered because of how devastatingly handsome he was or because you sensed how deeply he needed your powers. 

He hesitated at the edge of your tent, turning back to face you with a pained look of regret on his face. 

“A kind offer,” he replied softly. “But one I can’t accept, I’m afraid.”

You interrupted his exit again, a restless energy inside you imploring him not to leave. “Why not?” 

He didn’t stop this time, although you heard his quiet answer perfectly clear. “I have a knack for ruining beautiful things, and I would not wish such a fate on you.”

General Kirigan vanished into the warm summer night like a shadow. His visit had been so fleeting and unusual that you questioned whether you’d dreamt the whole thing in some sort of exhausted fever dream. It wasn’t until the following week, when you received a fresh set of bedsheets and new nurse’s apron from a mysterious donor, that you began to believe your own memory. There was a note tucked into the sheets, written on crisp parchment paper in the darkest ink you’d ever seen:

For the healer who mends more than what can be seen

You saved the note, if only to prove to yourself that it hadn’t been a dream after all…

#darkling imagine #darkling #darkling fanfiction #darkling shadow and bone #darkling x reader #darkling x you #the darkling #general kirigan imagine #general kirigan #aleksander morozova angst #aleksander morozova x reader #aleksander morozova imagine #aleksander morovoza #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone fanfiction #shadow and bone #darkling requests #shadow and bone requests

[hottpinkpenguin]

Hello dear, I hope you're still taking request otherwise just ignore this..

Could you write a one-shot with kaz brekker and a gender neutral reader he calls "My love"?

Kinda around the plot that the reader is ace but still wished for a deeply sensual connection (with a high drive) though actual sex isn't there thing and just like kaz's aversion to skin to skin touch it is trauma related. So both of them want some kind of physical connection but for neither of them it's easy and they try working on it together.

Something around the prompt "You're in love with a fool who's just trying to get under your skin."? Something going from slight angstyness to fluff so smut.

Hope you have a wonderful day, ❤

A/N: anon thank you for this prompt! I've never written an ace reader before so i really really hope i did it justice. pls let me know what you think! kaz's sexuality is so enticing, i love writing for him.

18+ ONLY!!!! MINORS DNI

Kaz Brekker X Ace GN!Reader Word Count: 2452 Warnings: masturbation; hints at past trauma; not proofread

Kaz’s ungloved hand hovered over your shoulder. You watched tension and fear flash in his eyes. He grimaced, trying to let his hand fall onto your skin. But the barrier of his past - the pain he could never speak of - kept him. It felt as real as if you were wearing armor, an obstacle between you two that he couldn’t push through. 

“It’s alright, Kaz,” you murmured, backing away a half step. “I don’t want this to hurt you.” 

His chestnut brown eyes searched your face. “But you do want this,” he stammered out, his voice threatening to break. “And I can’t give it to you.” 

Your face softened, lips curling into a half-smile. “What you give me is enough,” you replied, reaching out your hand into the space between you two. He looked at it before stepping into your touch, pressing the smooth silk of his shirt and the lean, strong muscles under it into your hand. You wanted badly to squeeze, run your hands up and down his arm, his body, to rake your hands through his hair and memorize every square inch of him that you could touch. But you let your hand rest there, allowing Kaz to take the lead. You watched as the tug-of-war between desire for you and the terror his traumas had planted stretched taut in his expression. 

“It’s not, though,” Kaz insisted quietly, intensely. “You want more. You deserve more. More than I can give.” 

You shook your head, allowing your hand to grip his forearm through his shirt arm to underscore your point. “That’s not true, Kaz.” 

His eyes simmered at you, ready to call your bluff. “The exact things we can give to each other are the very things neither of us can accept. You’re in love with a fool who just wants to get under your skin.” 

You sighed, seeing the stalemate the two of you had argued over for weeks looming on the horizon. How many times had you had this conversation? You both wanted more, you both wanted more together. You wanted to worship Kaz, his body, the angles and dips and grooves of the man you’d found your soul completely bound to. But he couldn’t give you that access, could barely handle your touch through the shield of his fine clothing. And each time he failed to let you in, he rejected himself a bit more.

And he wanted to take you, ravage you, claim you as his in a primal, feral way. Bend you over the table in his study and drive himself deep into you until he was buried in your soul. But the flame that burned in him for that kind of union just didn’t find kindling in your heart. You had desires - relentless drives - but they weren’t his. 

You supposed, in many ways, the two of you were a blessing to each other. You understood him, and he you. Even if your edges didn’t always fit together like a puzzle, you could feel the echo of your own emotions in his words. Both of you had been hurt by others, by the world, and had left you each different for it. Kaz would argue it scarred you both; you saw it differently, although you didn’t argue his view. You knew that you weren’t damaged, and neither was he. You were each simply transformed by the marks of your pasts. And adjusting to those transformations was proving trying.

You watched as Kaz watched you. He was waiting for you to take the bait, to argue with him. To pull him closer so he could push you away. Back and forth, the endless carousel. But you’d promised yourself that tonight would be different. And whether he knew it or not, you’d promised Kaz too. You both owed it to yourselves. 

“I have an idea,” you said, sidestepping Kaz’s earlier comment. His expression was wary and guarded, but piqued with curiosity. 

“Sounds dangerous,” he quipped. You chuckled, making Kaz’s eyes dance. He loved making you laugh. 

“We both want to try this, don’t we?” Your question was rhetorical, but Kaz nodded emphatically nonetheless. “Then let’s try something.” 

You truly didn’t have an idea - not one you could put to words, at least - but there was a feeling tugging on you. You decided to trust it. 

Kaz’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly. His instincts told him not to trust anyone, especially the people he was closest to. An impossible deadlock. You stepped as close to him as you could without touching any of your skin to his. Your body barely brushed against his, a few loose strands of his dark hair tickling your forehead. You noticed the way his breath hitched at your closeness, his lips parting gently. Come on, Kaz, you urged him with your eyes. If you want to take me, you have to trust me first. 

He hesitated only momentarily before he nodded once, the motion so subtle you might have missed it if you weren’t soaking in his every fleeting movement. 

“Lead me, my love.” Your heart fluttered like confetti in a strong wind at the pet name he’d taken to calling you. You swallowed, trying to stay focused. You saw Kaz smirk softly. He was teasing you, you realized with a hint of amazement. 

“Do you trust me?” you asked breathlessly. A dangerous question for Kaz Brekker, and one that you never would have dared even hint at a few months prior. But things had shifted between the two of you. This was the root of it all: trust. You needed his answer. 

He must have felt the importance of the question too. The mischievous smirk melted from his lips, leaving him looking somber and on the edge of terrified. 

“That’s an impo-”

“Kaz Brekker, do you trust me?” You interrupted him, repeating your question. 

The air between the two of you went motionless. You looked up into his eyes, his breath fanning over your face. Waiting.

“I trust you,” he said after a few tense breaths. “As much as I can.” 

You relaxed, not realizing you’d been holding your breath. 

“Then give me one of your hands.” 

Kaz went to back away, his eyes so wide you could see whites all the way around his irises. You knew that his hands were his trigger point, but you’d prepared for this.

“Not that way,” you added quickly. The hand still resting on his arm squeezed harder, his muscles rippling underneath. “Let your hand be my hand, for a while.”

The fear ebbed slightly in his face, replaced by skepticism. “What do you mean?”

You stepped back, putting space between the two of you. Kaz would need safety for this part, and you wanted him as comfortable as you could get him. 

“I’m going to show you how I want to touch you,” you told him, your voice turning gravelly as your mind began to rumble with want. “And you’re going to follow with your hand.” 

Kaz’s breath was turning a bit heavier, his body betraying his excitement. 

“I promise I won’t touch you, unless you ask,” you offered, giving him permission to feel safe. He nodded, trying to turn off the part of him that was every inch the Bastard of the Barrell.

“Where do we start?” he asked, his voice small with uncertainty.

“You start by taking off your gloves,” you commanded. “Finger by finger, nice and slow so I can watch.” Kaz raised an eyebrow at you in question. 

“Both hands?” 

You nodded.

“The left one is mine,” you explained, pointing to the arm you’d been touching earlier. “And the right one is yours. Start with your left.” 

Kaz tamped down his hesitancy and obeyed your command, his right hand - his hand - slowly pulling off the black leather glove from his left hand, the one you’d claimed as your proxy. You watched, the soft sound of the leather gliding over his skin caressing your ears. His skin came into view - smooth, unblemished. His whole hand exposed to the open air, he let the glove fall to the floor. 

“Good,” you told him, your voice crackling with effortless focus. “Now, watch carefully.” 

Using your right hand to act as a mirror image to Kaz, you brought your fingertips to your face, letting them rest gently on your lips, imagining they were Kaz’s. He watched you with a predatory glint in his eyes as he mimicked your motion. He shivered slightly as his own fingers fell on his lips, but kept his eyes trained on you. 

“What next, my love?” he asked, half-teasing half-challenging. 

“Tsktsk,” you chided playfully, matching his tone. “Don’t rush the teacher.” 

You leaned back against the edge of his desk. He copied your motion, his back bracing against the wall, no more than two feet between you. 

You focused on him, throwing your mind outward to try and sink into the hand he had resting on his face, awaiting your next move. With your hand, you dragged your fingertips down over the swell of your lips, hitting your chin, and then back across your jawline, adding pressure. Only a half-moment behind you, Kaz’s hand did the same across his face. You were beginning to feel the intimacy of the moment boiling your mind clear of thoughts. You loved it, your psyche screaming for more.

That’s when you noticed Kaz’s other hand - the one you’d let him maintain control of - twitching restlessly at his side. You jerked your chin at it.

“What do you want to do?” you asked him, your right hand slowly pressing its way down the side of your neck. You could practically feel Kaz’s skin under your fingertips as you watched his left hand obey your visual commands. 

“This is still mine, isn’t it?” he shot back at you, his right hand - still gloved - waving towards you. You nodded, your teaching hand shooting backwards to tangle in your hair. Kaz followed suit, and your toes curled as you heard him sigh slightly. His hair, Saints you wanted to absolutely lose yourselves in that hair. 

“Then, my love, let me show you what you make me want to do.” 

Kaz’s right hand dove down the waistband of his pants, his movement rough and raw. You knew what he was doing - the bulge in his crotch betraying him long ago. His right hand gripped his cock, his arm slowly beginning to pump. You forgot for a moment about his other hand, your mind soaking in the sight of him so vulnerable in front of you. You and Kaz had been intimate before, but this was a different level. You felt yourself turning inside out with a bone-deep ache. Not the fire that you knew burned in his gut, but a different kind of yearning. The electricity in the air practically crackled as the two of you had the freedom to step into your own dreams. 

“Don’t lose focus.” Kaz’s eyes snapped to yours, the sound of your voice pulling both of you back from your trances. Your right hand was limp on the side of your face, where Kaz’s left hand was. You started fingers up and down your chest, over the lines of your collarbone. Kaz followed suit, his mimicry of your movements artful in its precision. Meanwhile, his other hand pleasured himself. You, for your part, let your mind feast on the delicious bond brewing between you two. 

The edges of your mind were beginning to turn to jelly as you watched his control waver, his strokes turning longer, more forceful. 

Kaz let his head fall back against the wall, his eyelids heavy. His glassy eyes had focused in on your hand, careful not to let any small motion you made escape him. You felt mesmerized by the very real sensation that you were touching him, the small moans and micro-movements he made all a response to your presence, your closeness. You’d never felt closer, more alive and connected with him, and it was driving you absolutely wild. 

“I love you, Kaz Brekker.” The words fell out of your mouth before you could stop them. You hesitated, terrified of what you’d just done. The l word wasn’t something either of you had said to one another, although for some irrational reason each of you knew that that’s what this was. You’d both said as much. But something about saying it, naming it, especially now, felt different. 

Kaz amazed you. He didn’t falter, didn’t break eye contact for a moment. You saw just how much control he’d given over to you, how much trust he’d put on the line. 

“Foolish of you,” he muttered, his voice raspy and rising in pitch. You saw his face begin to grimace, the muscles in his abs tightening and his legs starting to spasm. “But I guess I’m foolish too. I love you, y/n.”

Your mind tangled around his words, a bright, beaming smile breaking on your lips. The sight sent Kaz over the edge, his face contorting in a pleasure that didn’t speak to you but never breaking eye contact. The closeness you felt to him in that moment was exquisite, beyond anything you’d ever imagined you’d be capable of. It radiated through every piece of you, a suffuse warm light that burned away the shadows of past hurts for a few perfect breaths.

As you both came down gently, you marveled at the feeling of contentment seeping into your heart. 

“I’ve never seen you smile like that,” Kaz commented, an edge of exhaustion in his voice. 

You blushed slightly, dropping your eyes to the dark wood floor between you two. 

“Let me see your smile again.” Kaz stepped towards you with a confidence you were only used to seeing in him when you two were on missions. Purpose was in his eyes. Then you felt it: a featherlight touch, his ungloved fingers landing like a butterfly on your chin as he lifted your head upward until your face was square with his. He was so close you could count each eyelash. 

The smile from a few moments earlier came back easily. You let it shine out at him, eager to give him anything he’d ask of you. 

“That’s worth the world,” he commented, letting his hand fall away from your face. The touch had been fleeting, but both of you understood the weight it carried. 

You basked in your own gleefulness for another moment. A familiar glint of playfulness with that dark and dangerous edge that drew you to Kaz appeared in his brown eyes. 

“Next time you have an idea, count me in,” he told you with a wink. 

You resolved to hold him to that promise…

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker requests #kaz brekker imagine #kaz imagine #kaz x y/n #kaz x reader #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x y/n #kaz shadow and bone #shadow and bone #shadow and bone imagine

[hottpinkpenguin]

congrats on the followers!! and super excited for this event. am looking forward to see lots of good stuff! And i am also here to request! Can we maybe get some Nikolai smut with the prompt "Don't cover your face. I want to see you" 👉👈

A/n: has there ever been a more perfect specimen for smut fics? i think not. so, nikolai, thank you bb for being so perfectly FINE. here you go anon - hope you like it!! actually several of you requested nikolai smut, so this one's for all y'all, you're my people and i'm here for it.

18+ only!!!! MINORS DNI

Nikolai Lanstov X Fem!Reader Word Count: 2,342 Warnings: smut, absolutely no plot, unprotected sex, P in V, fingering, sprinkles of praise kink, creampie

(i'm sorry, i know i've already used this gif on another fic but srsly ppl wut else am i supposed to use for a nikolai smut fic?! this gif is unholy and i love it)

The knock at your bedchamber door was fast, urgent. Four sharp taps, rapid fire. You could hear his need in those knocks. 

You weren’t far from the door, pacing with a suffocating mix of desire, impatience, and nerves. It had been so long since you’d seen Nikolai, you wondered if the arrangement you two had fallen into the last time you’d lived here would still apply. But those knocks told you everything you needed to know. He remembered, and you did too. 

He was on you before the door closed behind him. His mouth crashed against yours, the familiar taste of his mouth awakening memories you’d tried so hard to suppress. His hands tangling in your hair, squeezing your cheek, ripping at the thin fabric of your nightgown. Desperate, hungry. Just the way you liked him. 

He pulled back from the kiss just long enough to look at you. His gaze roamed over you like wind, a feral smile lighting up his face. 

“Gods I’ve missed you.” His voice had grown deeper, so gravelly it sounded like a growl. That familiar heat sparked to life between your legs. 

You grabbed him, twisting your fingers in the hair at the base of his neck the way you knew he liked. You kissed him deeply, your tongue shamelessly diving into his mouth, devouring every inch of him you could taste. 

You broke the kiss, twisting his face away from you as you planted a line of kisses along his jawline, working your way back and down to the soft spot where his neck met his shoulder. You sucked, then nibbled there softly. His breath hitched in his throat, his head tipped back, eyes closed, giving himself over to you. 

Your hands made quick work of the buttons at the front of his jacket, and he finished the rest, throwing it towards the chair in the corner of your dimly lit bedchamber. Running the tip of your tongue up to his earlobe, he moaned, pulling his undershirt up and out of his trousers. You reluctantly pulled back from him to let the shirt slide up and over his head before it too was discarded along with his jacket. 

Your hands remembered the feel of his warm skin, the muscles of his back and chest flexing under your touch. You found his mouth again, his hands cupping your face. You let your hands travel freely, tracing your fingertips over his back, down the backs of his biceps, around the crease at his elbow, up his arm and over to his chest. You added pressure, leaving small white lines on his skin. He let out the smallest gasp at the sensation, his eyes rolling back in his head. You pressed your body forward against his, feeling the bulge of his cock pressing your stomach through his trousers. The heat at the apex of your legs roared, making you squeeze your thighs together, moisture beginning to build there.

“Missed me too, did you?” 

The handsome smirk and devil-may-care glitter in his eyes took your breath in. If he only knew…

You let one of your hands snake its way down the front of his torso, your fingernails leaving a trail like a map over his abs. He shivered slightly, his smirk deepening as his eyes drank you in. More, more, more, his gaze said.

You pressed your palm against his hard cock, gripping it through his trousers. “Why don’t you take these off and find out,” you murmured back. Nikolai’s eyes went wild at the sound of your voice. You bit at the edge of your lip, relishing the feel of his member in your hand, the way he shuddered at your touch reflexively. You added pressure to your palm and began stroking the length of his shaft over the rough wool of his riding trousers. 

“Saints,” he muttered, stumbling backwards on shaky legs to lean against the wall. It had been a long time for both of you, it would seem. A coil began to grow deep and low in your gut as you watched his face go slack at the feel of your hand on his cock, lost in ecstasy for a moment. 

He snapped to quickly, coming out of his reverie with a look of purpose. He brushed your hand away from his cock, catching both wrists in his hands and turning you to swap places. His movements were strong but controlled, firm pressure but no pain. You let him lead you, and he stopped only when you were squarely against the wall. 

“You haven’t lost your touch,” he murmured, leaning in for a quick kiss as he danced a finger along your jawline. “But I’ve waited too long for you to skip my favorite part.” 

You were practically panting at his words, feeling loose and halfway drunk on the sight, sound, feel, taste of him. And he knew it. 

Goosepimples ran up your spine as you felt his hands slip under the straps of your nightgown, guiding them back and over your shoulders. The thin gown fell to the floor, pooling around your ankles like water. 

Rough, calloused palms traveled all over you: your arms, throat, breasts, down your sides and over to your backside, which he gave an appreciative squeeze. Then forward, around the swell of your hips, down the front of your thighs, before snaking inward. You stepped one leg outward, beckoning him higher. His right hand turned, palm facing upward, until he found his mark. 

You gasped when his hand touched your pussy, warm and wet with anticipation already. You didn’t miss the self-satisfied smile he wore when he felt your readiness. His fingers spread your flesh apart and he began to work, starting with large, languid circles. It was torturously divine - too slow to do anything but tease you. You let your head fall back against the wood paneled wall behind you, your leg bending at the knee with a foot braced on the wall as you let yourself fall open to him. You bucked your hips forward, grinding down against your hand. 

Reading your cues, his circles grew smaller and more focused, zeroing in on that sensitive bundle at the very center of you. His fingers found it effortlessly, dancing over it like he were plucking the strings on a lute. You gasped, the coil tightening as your body tensed. 

“That’s it, my girl,” he cooed, stepping close to you, his breath warm as it fanned over your exposed neck. “Let me have you.” He bore down on whatever skin he could reach with his mouth - kissing and sucking and gently biting - drawing heavy, sighing moans from your throat. His fingers kept dancing over your clit, his pressure crescendoing and then retreating like ocean waves. You felt your bent leg begin to tremble slightly. 

At that signal, Nikolai’s fingers plunged into you commandingly. You gasped, your eyes widening as your muscles squeezed around him momentarily. 

“My beautiful, beautiful girl.” Two fingers - his middle two - began to pump, firm but gentle. Already slick with your wetness. 

One of your hands traveled up to cup your exposed breast, your nipple hard as a marble. Nikolai watched your hand as you rubbed your palm gently over the nipple, your eyelids falling shut as the sensations of your body took over your senses. 

“Nikolai, please,” you whimpered, grinding your hips against the rhythm of his hands, desperate for more. 

“Beg me again,” he commanded, letting his forehead connect with yours. 

“Please,” you moaned out, your free hand grabbing the wrist working on your pussy and driving it into you with the force you were craving. “Gods, please!” 

Normally Nikolai would tell you to use your words, to tell me what you want. But after so long apart, the intricate push-pull teasing you two were so comfortable with gave way to raw need. He obliged your request, his hand pumping in and out, his two fingers stroking the spot inside you could never reach while his thumb continued its assault on your clit. 

Your body was alight with burgeoning lust, every cell fluttering with a glittering energy. You felt your climax approaching fast and hard. Your moans turned louder into cries, the hand that had been working your breast now gripping the wall for support. Your other hand came up to tangle in your hair as you felt your orgasm crest. You turned, dragging some of your hair across your face just before you fell apart on his hand. 

“Don’t cover your face,” he growled, his free hand catching your chin with his thumb and dragging you to face him. “I want to see you.” 

You felt the cord snap at his words. You cried out his name, your face uncovered for him to see. Your pussy pulsated around his fingers, your legs shaking in time with your orgasm as you leaned back against the wall. Wetness ran down the inside of your thighs and over his hand, your mind fracturing into a thousand pieces, all of them saturated with him. 

“That’s it, my girl. That’s perfect.” You vaguely registered the praises falling out of his lips as his hand pumped you up, through, and down the other side of your ecstasy. 

You were still shaking, your senses barely rekindled when you felt the loss of Nikolai’s hand, followed swiftly by the feel of his palms gripping you under your seat. He lifted you from the hips, cradling you against him as your hands snaked around his neck. He carried you back away from the wall, turning and laying you down on your bed. 

He hovered over you at the edge of the bed, rushing the trousers down over his ankles. His cock sprang free, full and eager. You reached for it, but Nikolai had other plans. 

He ignored your grasping hand, stepping forward and lining himself up with your entrance only long enough to register your acknowledgement before he buried himself in you. His hips smacked against yours as you cried out his name. The feel of him stretching you, your pussy still throbbing from his hand, sent your awareness scattering again. 

You felt Nikolai’s hands press down into the mattress next to your head, framing your face as he leaned over you. He hesitated, catching your gaze with his cock completely embedded in you. 

“Let me have you,” he told you. His hazel eyes were bottomless to you, his words felt like a drug. 

“You already do, Nikolai,” you replied. “Now, take it.”

He leapt at your command, his hips pulling away from you and then brutally slamming back into you. His cock dragged against you, reactivating that dwindling orgasm with a new fire. You let your legs lift up to twine around his rear, adding your own movement to match his. He was grunting, his brows furrowed in a mix of pleasure and concentration as the wet sounds of slapping skin filled the room, punctuated by your cries and his deeper, guttural grunts. 

You tried to lift your head to watch him slide in and out of you, but he found your neck, gently but firmly pushing your head back to the bed. His hand stayed there, wrapped around the base of your throat with a possessive, dominating pressure, almost enough to press the air from your lungs but never enough to hurt. 

“Fuck, I’m close. Y/n, I’m close, I’m gonna cum.” 

You gripped his backside with your hands, pulling him into you deeper and harder with the final few thrusts he gave you. As he threw his head back, a long and loud primal grunt spilling from his mouth, you felt your own body’s desire snap a second time. He gasped as he felt your pussy squeezing around his pulsating cock, his thrusts scattered and not as forceful, but drawing out the pleasure you’d both been denied for so long. You screamed out his name, not caring who heard or what they thought or even if the sounds that you made actually sounded anything like Nikolai at all. He knew, and you knew - that was all that mattered. You fell off the edge of reason, twisting and writhing until you were turned inside out on a cloud of pleasure. Then you floated, hanging there, his warmth and the nearness of his body the only thing you’d swore you’d ever need.

You both settled back into your bodies slowly, the sounds of two sets of panting breaths drawing you down from the sky you’d fallen into.

He finally slid out of you, leaving you feeling woefully empty. You whimpered softly at the loss of him. He collapsed down onto the mattress next to you, the hand he’d left at your throat gently turning your face to his. You washed in the sight of him, the soft sheen of sweat covering his handsome face, his lips swollen and parted, his cheeks flushed. His hazel eyes danced like stars as he smiled at you. You smiled back, one of your hands finding his hair and swirling patterns against his scalp. He moaned, his eyes falling closed for a few minutes as the two of you relaxed in the relative silence. You knew it was only to give your bodies enough time to recover before revisiting the night’s earlier activities, and the thought of it made your stomach twirl. 

When Nikolai Lantsov opened his eyes, that mischievous glint you loved so much was blazing. You knew what he was going to say before he said it.

“So you did miss me?”

You gave him a playful slap, laughing as he rolled you into him, squeezing you into a bearhug against his bare chest. He buried his head in your mussed hair, inhaling deeply. 

“Actually,” you finally replied when you weren’t breathless from giggling, “I might need you to show me again exactly what I’ve been missing, all this time.” 

Nikolai gave you a wicked smile. “Happily, my girl. Happily.”

And so you let him show you - again and again, and again some more…

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